Who rises up for me against the wicked?
Who stands up for me against evildoers?
If the Lord had not been my help,
my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.
When I thought, “My foot slips,”
your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul.
A half cup of cold coffee sits on the table beside me, my 12 month old baby girl straddles my thighs, and the cushioned leather of my couch presses into my shoulders like a corner I am backed in to. My baby girl’s finger play with the stretched neckline of my t-shirt and wanders up to my quivering chin. If my husband were here he would know I am upset but my little girl doesn’t see it. Just above her perfect little nose sits her almond shaped eyes and above that protrudes a red pump knot that tells the world what I already know to be true— I am not meant to be a mother.
Our friends had come over to visit and we sat around our kitchen table for some coffee and donuts. Our company was amazed at how big Alice had gotten since they had seen her last. “Kelly, I love that picture you put on Instagram of her! She is adorable! You guys are great parents.” I know the picture she was talking about. My husband and I took a family trip to the lake and Alice had cried all the way there and all the way back, nearly non-stop.
My arms were tired from holding Alice so I sat her in front of me on the dining table. She was locked in my arms like a little seatbelt until suddenly she wasn’t. In a blink she landed with a solid thud on our hardwood floor right next to my husbands feet! He swept her up in his arms and, in a moment of instinctual emotion, glared back at me over his shoulder. I have never seen my husband glare but it was definitely a glare! My baby was hurt, possibly bad, and it was my fault. How could a mother let her child get hurt like that?
Now, two days removed from the accident I sit here staring at her bruised forehead convinced that God made a mistake by choosing me to be this little girl’s mother. Is that true, did God make a mistake?
If I had time to visit my counselor she’d tell me that my emotions are valid but sometimes they aren’t rooted in what’s real. She’d explain that sometimes an event can trigger an emotional downward spiral that leaves me sick to my stomach.
Who will defend me from the wickedness of my own internal self talk? The Lord.
When my feet slip, the Lord’s steadfast love holds me up.
When the cares of my heart are suffocating the Lord’s comfort cheers my soul!
Charles Spurgeon said it best when referring to this Psalm, “How sweet are the comforts of the Spirit! Who can muse upon eternal love, immutable purposes, covenant promises, finished redemption, the risen Savior, his union with his people, the coming glory, and such like themes, without feeling his heart leaping with joy?”
God is not surprised with my imperfections. Grace and steadfast love is in His nature and He seeks out opportunities to show it. He is a rock; a firm foundation. My Lord is the Mother I strive to be and when I fail His grace abounds.
I am not backed into a corner but I am settling into motherhood. Today I have the choice to lay my cares at His feet and walk in the power of His Spirit. My failures are more evidence of my need for Jesus on this journey of motherhood. Praise God that He is enough for me!
24 year old.
Mother of an adorable puppy.
Wifed up to the coolest husband.