Become As A Little Child

Incredible, how frequently each day I must sacrifice myself. A few weeks ago, I asked the Lord how I could be a better mother, what I could do to love better, and He said to me, "Little one, every single act you do as a mother is one of selfless love." It overwhelms me, and I fall to my knees and beg for the grace and strength I could never have on my own. My heart simply isn't big enough. But His grace is sufficient and He supplies all we lack.

Today, I endured one of the heartbreaking moments of motherhood. Not my baby bumping his head or falling off the couch (Thank God), but still another source of mommy anxiety (at least for me): baby vaccinations. Matthew is such a champ, and only cries for a little bit, but with every sob my heart aches a little more. 

Now, I did my research for myself, and will not use this blog as a soapbox to iterate the pros/cons of vaccinations. Every mom needs to decide that for herself and for the best good of her little one. I chose to give Matthew his vaccines, and as such have to steel myself every two months for my little one's chubby thighs (oh-so-delicious and squeeze-worthy) to be pricked with needles. I know the benefits are undeniable, but let me tell you, the mama bear in me wants to rip the needles out of that nasty nurse's hands and chase her out of the run for wounding my baby. And while I'm hyperventilating and racing through Hail Mary's ten at a time, Matthew is crying, and then sniffling, and then hiccuping, and then... a smile. All better, Mommy. And I smile back at him through my own tears and aching heart, and say, "My brave boy."

I know now the truth in what my mother always told me, "Gaby, this will hurt me much more than it hurts you..."


And then it struck me: I will bear a heavier cross for having had my little boy, because I will not only bear my own suffering, but that of my beautiful son. He may not be destined to save the world (as was another Son born in Bethlehem). But my Matthew will have his own share of sorrows, and as his mother, I will look on and share all. Sometimes, I'll be able to make it better with a kiss and a Band-Aid. Sometimes, all I will be able to do is cry with him, pray with him, look for meaning with him, suffer with him, and let him


It is the lot of the mother to share burdens beyond her own, and to bear these things in her heart. Am I ready for that, Lord? Only with Your grace, which surpasses understanding. Only then, will my selfish heart be able not only to endure my own suffering, but willing shoulder the sorrow of my children, however small or excruciating. With my own mother as an example, I have witnessed -more so in the past few years, as my mother has become less a authority figure and more a friend- how often a mother must set aside her own trials, to be a source of comfort and wisdom for her little ones. It is a cross added to her cross, but a joyful burden.


My heart aches when my son suffers. My sorrow is inextricably joined to his, and his joy increases mine. I am reminded of how this is an image of what our relationship with God the Father ought in fact be. As His children, His glorification ought be our primary goal and joy, and His suffering ought cause us sorrow. I am learning, little by little, so very much from my new role as mother. I am learning what it means to love unconditionally, what it means to surrender, to trust. I am learning to place all in the hands of my own Father in Heaven, begging for the grace to be what Matthew needs me to be, while growing in my own personhood.


I need to be more like my son. Even as I love him, play with him, teach him, I must never forget that I am called to be more like him - childlike. Trusting that the Lord will never allow me to experience agony without purpose, for my own best good. Resting in His peace, knowing that here alone can I never be harmed. Knowing with absolute certainty that my needs will always be met. For He is my Abba, my Daddy in Heaven. And He will never allow me to suffer without bearing the brunt of it Himself. Maybe someday I'll endure through some suffering without kicking and screaming the whole time. Maybe it'll be me who cries a little, but then clings to the One who is my strength, saying, All better Daddy! And He'll smile lovingly, knowing that it is His grace that carries me through each trial, and say "My brave girl."