Y’know, for all that I want to be honest, I am also afraid to be completely transparent. Not only because I don’t want my readers to think poorly of me – or run, screaming, from my blog! – but because I don’t want to give the enemy a cause for celebration. I don’t want the world to be able to say, “See, we told you so.” But the truth is the truth. How I feel about what God has put in my hand to do is true and, more importantly, God’s Word is still true, regardless of how I feel. One of the most overwhelming things I tend to feel is alone in this, and maybe that’s because no one else wants to be completely transparent, either.  So I made the decision yesterday (before I had to go out and about running errands and couldn’t actually post here) to just bite the bullet and be totally transparent.  You’re going to see me in all of my ugliness and mess.  Maybe you’ll respond with, “You mean I’m not the only one?!”  Maybe with, “Wow, I’m glad I’m not that bad!” Regardless, I hope that you will be encouraged by the recognition that none of us is alone in our need to grow.

Interestingly enough, right after I made this decision, I read this from Heather (Sprittibee).

The other day, when I was feeling exceptionally weak, I asked her to pray for me while we were ‘chatting’ through email. She shared that her days were not perfect. It was the first time I had imagined her ‘like’ me. When I see me, I see all the faults. I imagined all her cozy devotionals and home made muffins… beautiful farm picnics and home cooked goodness… and contrasted it against my messy desk, fast food meals, piles of laundry, and feelings of failure as a mom and teacher.

So here you go.  Me, in all of my realistic ugliness.

In my case, it is not just a messy desk and piles of laundry – although I do have those.  The laundry is behind.  The house looks like a hurricane came through.  (Really.  I’m not exaggerating…much.  It looks like one of those places that they recruit for those clutter-busting television shows because there is stuff piled up so high in so many places.)  Both of these things are pretty much always true.  The dishes are usually behind, as well.  Forget about actually making anything look beautiful!  I can’t even seem to get it looking tidy.  If I spend an entire day focusing on one tiny corner of the house, I can get it almost presentable – and in the meantime, the rest of the house and everything else that needs doing goes to pot.

And the girls?  Well, they’re just completely out of hand.  Sophia doesn’t obey anything we tell her, ever.  It takes hours to get her down for a nap every day, and hours to get her (semi-permanently) in bed at night.  And this is not because she’s just being permitted to do whatever she wants; this is with constant discipline.  She’s fast, and she can get away from me in a split second.  By the time I find her, she will have dumped an entire quart of yogurt on the floor or emptied out my pantry.  In the time it takes me to clean that up…well, you can imagine.  Ariel is usually fairly obedient, as far as outward actions go, but her attitude – ugh.  She thinks she is smarter and more knowledgeable than anyone else in the world and that Mama is the stupidest thing God ever created.  As far as she’s concerned, the world revolves around her.  (Again, she is not being raised this way.  She is not pampered or coddled.  She does not get everything she wants – but she still thinks she should.)

Add all of this together, and most days I feel like being a full-time mother is the worst job in the world.  It’s a permanent, never-ending job with no pay, and no benefits.  There are no vacations, no lunch breaks – and often, not even bathroom breaks.  There’s no training for this job; it’s all a guessing game to see what will work.  There’s no support for this job.  The world, and most of the church along with it, believes that it is a worthless job that no one should be doing, anyway, and their response is to just tell you to quit.  There are no more adult-level conversations once you have children.  Mama’s brain seems to wither away to nothing, atrophying from lack of use.  It is impossible to succeed.  Everything about the job is pure rote – all of the same things, day-in and day-out.  No progress is made (in my case, anyway).  You get no thanks; no one appreciates what you’re doing.  You have nothing to show for it.  And everything you do is undone within – at the most – 24 hours.  (Most things are undone in less than one hour.)

That’s a pretty discouraging picture, and the one I’m looking at about 98% of the time.  And yet…

I wouldn’t trade this job for any other.  There is a reason I have this job.  First, because God gave it to me.  It is what He put in my hand to do, and that is reason enough.  (“Admonish [(train)] the younger women……to love their husbands, to love their children…to be…homemakers…that the Word of God may not be blasphemed.”)  But that isn’t it, either.  Somewhere deep down, buried beneath the dirty dishes and laundry, the messy house, and the unruly children, I know that I am blessed to have this job.  I get to see my daughters’ first steps and the first teeth they cut.  I see their delight when they learn to read, or when adding finally “clicks” and they realize they’ve learned something new.  When they get hurt, they run to me.  I am their best earthly friend, the one who knows them best.  Their loyalty to me (and to their daddy) is not divided.  It is not “Mom and Dad” vs. friends or “Daddy and Mama” vs. the teacher.  They know and love and cling to and trust us. What a treasure of time I have with these precious girls that I would not have if I discarded this God-given role for some other career – a career which, I’m sure, would seem more rewarding in the short term.  (Oh, to feel like I can do something well again, for once!)  Are they not worth more than any success?

So there you have it.  Most days, I am so discouraged I am ready to quit.  I now understand why women lock their babies into closets, lose all control, or simply walk away.  It is a sobering thought.  There but for the grace of God…  But I will not quit.  I will not walk away.  (And just in case you were worried, I have not locked either of my daughters into a closet or anything of the sort.)  Even if all the grace and strength that God has given me is just enough to persevere, I will at least do that.  And if I’m faithful, maybe someday I’ll get to graduate to the grace for a reasonably tidy house. 😉