Out of all the hard things I anticipated about parenting, mealtimes weren’t on the list. But there I was, on the floor of the dining room holding yet another spoonful of food that my firstborn baby girl didn’t want to eat, praying, “God, I can’t do this.”
As a young mother, I’d recall a story my dad told me: Once my mom called him in frustration after I (as an infant) threw up all the food she’d painstakingly fed me over the course of an hour. I always liked this story because it gave me a plausible genetic predisposition excuse for how my kids ate. But even moreso, I enjoyed it because it gave me a glimpse of my mom as a first-time mom.
No One is Superwoman Overnight
If you knew my mom, you would probably agree with the man who once stopped me at church to tell me, “Your mom is a superwoman.” Her capacity for working to serve others and enduring difficulties certainly feels superhuman. That’s why it was strange for me to imagine her calling my dad at work about a feeding session, and that’s why I enjoyed the Faith-was-a-terrible-eater story so much. It reminded me that my mom didn’t become superwoman overnight.
Some of you may be in the thick of learning how to keep a home, be a wife, or survive as a mom. You may be looking at the superwomen in your lives—your own mom, a godly older woman, or a friend with more children—and hang your head in shame for being so weak and struggling so much. I know how it is. But I want to encourage you to remember: These superwomen didn’t get there overnight, and they didn’t get there on their own.
Our family is just coming out of our diaper-filled years, a long season where my daily agenda was “make it through the day.” The newly-married and first-time mom stages aren’t so far behind me that I don’t remember how hard they were.
I remember, as a newlywed, being surprised at how much time I spent on food. Premarital counseling prepared me for a lot, and I was eager to learn to keep a home. But I did not expect meal planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleaning to be so taxing.
I remember the terrible morning sickness of my first pregnancy—how I threw up through the first half of it. I didn’t just feel sick, but sad. I wanted to have more kids, yet couldn’t imagine making it through another pregnancy.
I remember the never-ending day that was actually the first few weeks after the birth of our eldest. Recovery was tough, breastfeeding was painful, and my jaundiced baby needed to be woken up constantly for feedings. The theme of my days was, “I need Thee every hour!” because sometimes I didn’t feel like I’d make it through the next sixty minutes.
And I remember the struggle of figuring out the dynamics and choices involved with having children and being a ministry family— the adjustments we didn’t know we needed to make, the difficult conversations, the way we were taken by surprise at the way our expectations and needs shifted.
God Grows Our Capacity Over Time
Three kids in, Jeff and I talked about going on vacation with the baby while my parents took the older girls away for a few days. I marveled at the fact that just a few years before, we would never have thought, “Wow, we just have one kid at home—how relaxing!” We still have young kids, and we are far from being out of the woods, but over the years, I’ve noticed one important theme as a homemaker and parent—God grows our capacity over time.
Some may see the repeated tasks of homemaking and child-rearing and wonder if it’s monotonous and mind-numbing doing the same things day after day. Yes, there is an aspect of repetition, and it is important to maintain perspective in the mundane, everyday tasks that make up our days. (I’ve written about that here.)
But I’ve also found great satisfaction in learning that though the tasks of keeping a home and caring for children do repeat, we get better at them over time. In other words, in doing our daily tasks of service, we become more effective and efficient in doing them. In this way, we grow in our capacity to do more good to love others.
Over time, our hands move a little less clumsily at the cutting board. We get better at throwing together a meal for last-minute guests. At the changing table, we can wrestle down the squirming poop-er deftly enough to continue our conversation with two older kids about speaking kindly to one another.
In matters of the heart, we learn to discern more quickly whether our children need a hug, a timeout, a nap, or all three.
All of this doesn’t happen because some people are born with super-capacities—it comes because of all the time spent each day in the kitchen, at the changing table, and at engaging the heart.
To use gym language, God is the perfect trainer, and the daily tasks involved in housework and caring for children are our reps. Our Trainer knows how to push us past what we feel is possible or pleasant, but he does so with a purpose. Not only is he enabling us to serve others now, he is preparing us for the good works he’s planned ahead. God increases our capacity not only so that we can gain mastery but because as we do our tasks in love for those around us, he has other tasks and training lying before us.
Day by day, God is training us in the work he’s called us to—not only physically but spiritually. By putting us in a position of weakness, he gives us the chance to recognize our need for his strength and grace in our work. He gives us opportunities to see his grace in the day-to-day and his wisdom in ordering our days and seasons as homemakers and parents. I believe one reason he does this is so we can testify to his sustaining presence and comfort, so that we can give courage to others even after we have moved to the next struggle.
Sharing Testimonies and Stories of Grace
One of the great blessings of being in the church is that we get to hear testimonies of growth from others. The apostle Paul spoke to the real need women have to learn from those a step or two (or more) ahead of us. In his letter to Titus, he exhorts older women to help train younger women as they grow into the ways they’ve been called to serve those around them (Tit. 2:4). He isn’t referring to master classes on hospitality or parenting but practical help rooted in the gospel of grace (Tit. 2:11-14.)
So, to the one who looks like superwoman to another, would you consider testifying to her that you didn’t get to where you are overnight? Is there a way you can speak grace and truth into a younger person’s life, apart from the “Just you wait and see how it gets worse!” the world seems to offer?
I find that the further I get from past hardships, the easier it is to forget that they really were difficult. When that happens, I fail to respond with compassion and grace to others who are struggling. Here, Jesus reminds me that because he took on flesh, he sympathizes with me in my weaknesses. In the same way, I need to remember my own experiences of his strength in my weakness so that I can sympathize and testify to the grace he’s extended to me. Would you remember how God showed you grace in the past, as he continues to show you grace now? Will you encourage another beloved in the Lord like Paul did, declaring, “By the grace of God, I am what I am” (1 Cor. 15:10)?
And for the first-time mom wondering how you’ll get through the next 24 hours, know that there is grace for you. Grace from God to sustain you and grace in how he is shaping you. He is teaching you lessons that you’ll soon be passing on, equipping you with skills you’ll be using to serve others in the future. He is making your need and his sufficiency known to you in order that you may declare his goodness to those who will need to hear of it in years to come.
It may be hard, and in a sense, it’s supposed to be, but trust your wise instructor and gracious sustainer. The One who has given daily grace to those you look up to is the same One who is training you today.
“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Eph. 2:10)
Editor’s Note: An earlier version of this essay originally appeared on Faith Chang’s blog, Keeping Heart. It has been updated and republished here with permission from the author.