#BlessedMamaProblems

#firstworldproblems

Problem: 

I want to tie all stories up in nice pretty bows with happy endings that make my listener/reader feel happy, but sometimes, the story hasn't ended happily yet. 

I find the "first world problems" meme to be rather entertaining. It's snarky, yes, but I like how it keeps our woes in perspective. I have definitely felt frustrated by every single one of the above situations. If we really consider the bigger picture, life is probably not that rough. That's good to remember.

But here's another thing. Do you ever find yourself complaining about something that is really bothering you, and then trying to wrap it up with a nice and tidy conclusion? Like recently, I saw some people I hadn't seen in a while, and as we exchanged pleasantries, I tried to respond to the "how have you been?" question. I had been falling apart, honestly. I tried to be authentic, "Haven't really slept in over a week, Sofia's been sick and teething." You see their pupils widening and their leg muscles contracting so that they are ready to dart away from this Hot Mess and find safer, happier territory, so I wrap it up, downplaying my drama, "But other than that, we've been good, how are you?" Awkward social crises mostly averted. We really have trouble holding one another's unraveling, don't we? 

And let's be honest, we have trouble holding our own unraveling. I've found over and over in conversations with friends, even dear old friends that I love and trust, that when they ask me how I am doing, and they really mean it, and they really can hold my unraveling, I am not ready to tell them how bad things are unless I know I've found my way out of the woods or I've already discovered the moral of my story. This is true too when I'm considering blog post material. It is really hard to put myself out there in the midst of a moment that is still hard and that reveals that I don't have things under control. It's fine to be honest about not having had control, as long as that is past tense, and I currently have that problem dominated.

I need something that allows me to both be honest about my present Hot-Mess-ness, but also maintain a broader perspective, so that my present doesn't unravel me, and you can tolerate hearing some truth about where I am at. 

Proposition:

Instead of starting from the place of my uncontrollable problem and then artificially wrapping it up with happy thoughts, what if I start from a grounded place of gratitude and move to a confession that I'm nonetheless imperfect, emotionally complex, and maybe struggling with something at the moment? 

When he was having a bad day, our campus pastor at Westmont, Ben Patterson, used to reply to the question of how he was doing with the response, "I am fundamentally sound." In that, he was owning that his circumstances in the moment were rough, but his belief in the love of God was not contingent on things going Ben's way, he believed in a God that was bigger than his present circumstance and who would carry him through. I loved that mentality and have used that response many a time. 

That discipline was good, and I am also thinking of using a phrase that is a bit more specific to who I am. For example, as I was heading upstairs the other day to take my shower, I heard Manny and Sofia's laughter filling the house, and I felt jealous of the fun time they were getting to have together, and wished I didn't have to rush through the necessities of the day and miss out. I think this was a "BlessedMamaProblem." Of all the problems to have in the world, that was a pretty sweet one. And instead of pouting, once I turned it around to think about my identity as one covered in grace, I was able to admit that there were plenty of other things that made me sad/frustrated/confused/etc. but that wouldn't even come up if I were not first gifted with amazing things like an amazingly generous husband and beautifully spirited daughter, which is not to say that there is not still a sadness to them, just to say that it is contextualized within blessing. So then I can hold the hard stuff, and am I wrong, or does that make it easier for you to tolerate too, knowing that I'm sad, and I am grounded and so I'll be [note the allowance for future tense here, I'm not necessarily "ok" yet] ok? 

Maybe even more than that, I'm more free to admit to you that things are rough, and I am open to suggestions you might have, because maybe you know more than me about how to navigate this situation. And maybe you identify and haven't been able to admit it yourself? But when I tell you about my BlessedMamaProblem (BMP), we can maybe even laugh about it, even if we don't quite have a solution to something that feels like a problem? 

The other day I was on a walk with a fellow mom friend whose kids were sick. As I listened to her try to act like everything was fine, but between the lines it was clear that she felt like she was unraveling, I could hear and feel what I had just been feeling when my Sofia was sick and teething just days before. I admitted that in that hour, what I had been feeling I needed most was for someone to tell me how on earth to stop being mad at my daughter. What a horrible thought right? Sofia was in pain and suffering and so helpless to care for herself as I can by getting a cup of tea or something. But after days of that, I just felt angry when she would start to cry again because I felt so drained and frustrated and maybe even helpless myself. Of course rationally I can say things like "it is because I love her so much that the sound of her crying is painful, it is a deep empathy, I am mad at the pain, not my daughter" and such. But in that moment, I can't necessarily think clearly, and I am angry at the crying itself. I still don't know quite how to find the emotional strength to deal with that situation. I shared how much I love my daughter, and this nasty thing was true about what I was feeling. It was a little bit terrifying (honestly, I'm a bit nervous about even writing it out here) and alot a bit humbling to admit to a friend who seemed frustrated and yet still pulled together. But my friend exclaimed with her whole body, practically shouting gratitude at me for saying what I did because that was exactly what she felt too but the feeling was so unnerving, so unraveling, that she didn't want to admit it either, maybe even to herself. Without closure, we both had a fantastic laugh from the relief of knowing we were not alone, and, even in that unresolved mess, we are blessed. 

Instead of saying, "I'm angry at my kid for being sick, but I'm blessed to have a kid in the first place," I want to shift to saying, "I'm a blessed mama, and still, I don't know what to do when my baby is in pain and I'm out of energy to help her." Gosh, it is scary just writing it out for myself. But notice the shift from "but" to "and." 

Instead of minimizing, negating, or choosing to forget the suffering, I'm trying to hold it together with truth and perspective. I think this not only leaves room for the audience I share my BMP with, it also makes honest space for God to step into my mess and help me work past it. Even if I try to downplay my pain, doesn't mean I don't have the pain at all, I'm just suppressing it. If I can find the strength for  greater willingness to confess my mess, this will help me see how much bigger of a God He is, to remember His faithfulness in the complex and difficult moments. 

I'm going to try to discipline myself in this mentality. I'm going to try to maintain this posture more as I write for this blog, so stay tuned. You can also join my two other twitter followers (@zoefaithreyes) and see if I can craft some #blessedmamaproblems tweets, and maybe share some #blessedmamaproblems of your own (or blessed papa, or blessed human, or what have you). You can also leave your comments here and let me know what you think. 

P.S. Jeff Goins challenged writers to compose something that scared them, and hit publish. See his post here. Challenge accepted.