When You Feel Like You’re Not Enough

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My kids have been streaming home from church camp over the past few weeks, and the blazing sparkle beneath the tired eyes and the tales of God-sightings and faith-igniting have reminded me once again that what my children need more than an amazing mother is a faithful Father. Hope you don’t mind my digging out this favorite from the archives today…

 

red-student-desk-chair-hiA piece of  white hair hung over his icy blue eyes as his flushed face contorted in brow-furrowed frustration.

His lanky three-year-old legs dangled over the edge of the well-worn time out chair. 

His words hung heavy between us.

I wish I had a different Mommy! 

He clenched his fist and swatted the air in exasperation. 

And I stood quiet, too weary to respond to my incensed firstborn.

I knew those words weren’t totally true.

They were just the arrows of anger coming from a preschooler who had been told no. 

No, you cannot dig a hole in the neighbors backyard.

I know you want to excavate dinosaur bones, but you’ll need to do that in our yard.

I don’t care if the neighbors have better mud. You may NOT leave holes in their yard.

But the words of my little boy still stung deep, and soon my own frustration stirred my numbed heart to life and dared me to made  to kick and scream along with my disgruntled son.

I wanted to slam a door or stomp noisy down the hall, but my sleeping baby in the adjacent room restrained my childish impulses.

I wanted to give up and go hide in that hole in the neighbor’s yard.

I stood silent before my angry son, but in my head, I hurled my own wounded rebuttal at my knee-high child :

I wish you had a different mommy, too. 
 Not another mommy. Just a different me…

me that was better suited for toddler tantrums and time-out battles.

me that knew what to do with a strong willed son.
 
me that responded with grace when my child knocked down little girls at playgroup in his hurry to be first at the snack table.
 
me that delighted in a dozen backyard soccer games after breakfast and peanut-butter-and-jelly-sandwich-eating competitions at lunch.
 
me that knew how to show love to a too-busy-to-be-cuddled boy.
 
I had no idea that someone so small could stir up such big doubts. 

I ‘d felt like a champion the day we met.

I’d pushed him from womb to world in silent strain, awed by the holy reservoir of strength that had spurred me on. 
 
And when the doctor had placed that precious prize in my arms,  I was an Olympic athlete being handed the gold.
 
I couldn’t have imagined how fiercely I’d grow to love that saggy-skinned gift of life– or how deficient I’d feel as I tried to unwrap it.
 
I didn’t know how inadequate motherhood would make me feel.
 
I didn’t know that when my child failed I would feel like I had failed, too. 
 
I didn’t realize that shepherding another’s soul would cause me to be discouraged with mine. 
 
Or that despite all of my best efforts, I would still feel afraid. 
 
Afraid that I wasn’t enough.
 
I thought I’d figure it out in time, believed I’d eventually learn how to be the kind of mom I’d always dreamed I’d be.

brux122But the more children I had, the less I knew. 

And the more my gaps became visible.

I didn’t know that every child would expose my holes.
 
I had no idea how deficient I’d feel as I struggled to celebrate the delights of my unconventional second-born.

Didn’t realize that I’d feel lost when my third-born cried over starving babies in Africa.

I didn’t know how I’d feel helpless when my fourth-born asked intricate questions about mechanics but struggled with articulating the simplest of words. 
 
I never guessed that my fifth-born’s midnight wails would render me dumbfounded and discouraged. 
 
My firstborn isn’t the only one who has demanded more than I have to give. 

Each child has forced me to face that silent fear:  I am not enough.

I cannot love enough, give enough, pray enough, laugh enough, instruct enough.

What I didn’t know on that day long ago when my three-year-old begged for a different mommy was that in time, my fear would fuel faith.

That my holes would be windows to Christ’s holiness; my deficiencies  magnify His majesty. 

So when my firstborn returned from church camp last week- this serious fourteen-year-old who still has fast feet and a determined spirit- I knew that my faith was finally growing greater than my fear. 

I listened to him hum worship tunes under his breath.

And watched as he smiled even when no one was looking.

And I caught him pulling his little brother on his lap and hugging him longer than necessary, and spinning his little sister in circles and kissing her soft blonde curls.

And I saw the way he glowed with a Moses-radiance; noticed how he sported the look of one who has spent time in the presence of the Almighty.

And I realized that my holes matter little.

He told tales of worship that moved his soul and of his counselor’s powerful testimony.

He spoke of afternoons spent in the lake and the thrill of midnight games.

He sighed, satisfied, this one with an unquenchable hunger for more. 

And when I asked what the best part of it all was, he quietly answered, “God was there.” 

And I knew deep in my soul where my shortcomings simmer and taunt that what faith says is true–

I’ll never be enough.

But God always will be.

Enough for my fast-footed son and my carefree girl.

Enough for my tender one and my hard-working one and my stubborn and sassy one.

My children don’t need a different mommy. 

They simply need a faithful Father.  

And that will be ENOUGH. 

Joining Ann again counting gifts from my faithful father…

multitudesonmondaysbutton2-13

2113. Snow cones on a blazing hot evening.

2114. A husband who sends me off to write while he plays with the kids.

2115. Maggie’s hands clutching my knees as I walk through the door at day’s end: “I’ve missed you so much, Mommy. You’re the one I love best!”

2116. Hannah curled up in the big leather chair reading Ramona the Pest to her little brother and sister.

2117. A phone call that opens the door to possibility thinking.

2118. God’s faithfulness to answer my desperate prayers.

2119. Kids racing through the dark with sparklers.

2120. A family bonfire- singing camp songs and looking at stars and telling round-robin stories way too late into the night.

Writing in community with Laura for playdates with God,  Jen for soli deo gloriaThe Better MomThe Mom Initiativewith Sarah for Mom Notes, and Jen at Rich Faith Rising.

 

Alicia

21 Comments

  1. Thank you so much for pouring your heart and soul out in such a beautiful way. This is exactly what I needed to hear this morning. My feelings are so raw in this area right now and reading this was like God giving me a big hug and letting me know that this is contrary to the way he wants me to feel. Thank you.

  2. Each of our children expose different holes….so true! So glad God fills those holes friend and makes us whole! So thankful for His grace…

  3. Hi Alicia! I am coming over from Dionne’s blog. Nice to meet you!

    Every Mother on earth can relate to your experience…well, maybe not with as many children! (I am one of eight, so I know how crazy it can be with all those individuals and their needs.)

    There is great wisdom in knowing that you will not and cannot be everything to anyone, including your kids, but I guess I never stop hoping that I will be. But that means God won’t mean anything, and that would not be good AT ALL! So, I need reminders like this one to get me grounded again.

    So happy I stopped by!
    Ceil

  4. So incredibly true! I think we moms live in a parallel universe…and we all need a dose of grace and a few reminders once in a while. This was a beautiful, heartfelt one. Thank you!

  5. So very true. I can relate to so much of this. Great words, friend!

  6. Amy L. Sullivan says:

    Every time I come here, I like you more and more. Is that possible?

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      If only my kids felt the same about me!

  7. I am so worn-out crabby tonight, and you have refreshed my soul. Thank you, my friend. Where my strength and wisdom end, the Father always has strength beyond. What would I do without that truth?

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Summer has a way of sucking us dry, doesn’t it? Praying strength for you, friend.

  8. Dear Alecia
    I don’t think there ever was a mother since the beginning of time who thought she was enough, dear friend. What I think is more important than the illusion of a perfect mother, is a mom who acknowledges her insufficiency and her total dependance on the only perfect Father! My children learned a lot in life through my being open and honest to them about my faults, fears and humanness!
    Blessings XX
    Mia

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      I always appreciate your insight, Mia. So blessed by your visits.

  9. “I’ll never be enough but God always will be.”
    Amen. So thankful for that truth! You stir up a lot of feelings here. I didn’t know how much anger or selfishness or laziness I had in me until I had children and it surfaced. I’m grateful for grace to continue growing me up as I raised my children. God is the best parent ever!

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Oh, Lisa, you’re right about that. I remember saying to my husband once when my firstborn was a toddler, “I never knew that a child so small could make me act like a toddler, too!” What these kids have unearthed in my heart has been humbling and horrifying some days- if it weren’t for grace.

  10. Your description of your then three year old being angry about time out made me smile. I remember those days, when the lips would pout and the stance would grow defiant. Oh, my.
    And then, they grow, and grow up. What a delightful young man you have raised, who loves his siblings so dearly and finds such comfort in his faith.
    Thank you so much for sharing this joyful glimpse!

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Yes, those toddler battles with my boy are long over.. now on to teenage challenges. He IS a wonderful young man- not because of anything his mom’s done,but because he has an amazing Savior who just won’t stop wooing his heart. So grateful I don’t have to parent alone!

  11. The neighbors have better mud? That’s a good one! ha! But what a sweet story and a great reminder that we really don’t have to be “enough” when we have a Father who fills in the cracks that we as humans all have, Alicia. Oh, and my church just completed our Kid’s Bible Kamp last week and I was a helper. What a great but so very exhausting week! :S So glad you could take a little blogging break!

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Oh, I LOVE helping with Vacation Bible School, too, but I’m always amazed at how tired I am by the end of the week.

  12. Sweet! I love that He is always enough and that He MAKES us enough for the task He’s placed before us.

    Coming over from Playdates with God link-up.

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      So glad you stopped by, Kate! I’ll be dropping over your way soon.

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Thanks, Donna.

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