Love is hard.

Have any other parents out there experienced these thoughts racing through your mind, "How did I let this happen?" ["this" being parenthood] I remember a point in my pregnancy when the gravity of the idea of parenting fell down on me like a ton of bricks. I was signed up and committed to this daunting, harrowing, journey. There was no turning back. And that was in the midst of a pregnancy that was 200% planned and intentional. Apparently at least 40% of pregnancies in the U.S. are unintentional. So I'm guessing there is a non-zero amount of parents out there who can identify with me.

It's not the predominant thought in my mind related to my child, but it has come up several times. Parenting is just hard. There is an overwhelming quantity of advice out there about how to get your kid to sleep, how to get them into Harvard, how to prepare the best foods for them. There's also loads of advice about how to help your kids get along well with their siblings, how to handle bullies, how to have good manners and respect their elders, even how to learn to love God. Good relational pursuits. And yeah, we need some of that because we're desperate for help in getting the best life for our kids. But you know what I'm struck by lately? I'm struck by the lack of support in all the dialogue about how to help parents just love their kids.

Maybe it is too scary to admit that loving our kids can be hard. I know it is hard for me to admit this, especially in a public space like this, but it's true. It is hard to admit there has ever been a moment, much less, momentS, where I wasn't totally thrilled at the prospect of being Sofia's mom for life. But it's true. Are we in some sort of parenting cult where we have to make it look like it's the greatest thing ever so all the childless people out there will go out and make more babies? "Misery loves company" or something like that? Am I afraid that if I admit this, that someone will deem me unfit and come to take away my child? That last one is a bit closer to the truth. And even more core to the fear around this admission is the prospect that Sofia would find this out someday and wonder if it means that I do not love her.

But I do.

I do love her. I do love her father. I do love my own parents, my sister, my friends. AND, sometimes, loving any and all of these people can be really, really hard. Sometimes I lose my patience. Sometimes I feel really hurt, physically or emotionally. Sometimes I feel like the way I'm being treated is really unjust. Sometimes I feel like other people don't deserve my love. Sometimes I get very angry.

And it is hard to see past a wall of fire in my eyes to a human being on the other side that I do need to keep on loving. It is hard to push past utter exhaustion to find the energy to attend to another's needs. It is hard to remain tender with a screaming writhing banshie who just won't cooperate. It is hard to stick by the side of a person you care for who seems so committed to their own self-destruction, and a bit of your destruction too, while they're at it. Love is so stinking hard.

So when someone tells me what I'm doing as a mom is "so important," I feel flattered, but honestly, it is just too vague to help me through those hard moments. And when someone tells me that there is purpose in my parenthood because it'll help me meet and minister to other parents, that doesn't do much to help me find patience with my child when I'm home alone with no other parents to witness our interaction. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know I've been struggling with this for a long time. You know that God has done some work in my heart to encourage me in these hard moments. And it is still hard. So He is faithful to keep giving me more encouragement that I so deeply need.

I was studying Luke 1 the other day, reading the story of this guy, Zechariah, who was an old priest who'd been praying for years and years and years for he and his wife, Elizabeth, to have a kid. The one day in his life comes up, when he gets to offer incense and enter the sanctuary of the Lord. He goes in, and the angel Gabriel shows up to have a chat with him. After four hundred years of silence from God, no signs, no prophecies, no nothing, God breaks the silence for this scene.

Gabriel tells Zechariah that he and Elizabeth are going to have a baby boy, John, that will be filled with the Holy Spirit, have the power of Elijah, and he will prepare the way for the Messiah. Wo. This son he has always wanted and had maybe mostly given up hope for ever having was going to till the soil of the hearts of Israel so that they would be prepared to receive Jesus and to believe in Him as their savior. Wo. Wo. Wo.

Israel's hearts were so disobedient that God had cut off communication for 400 years. And now after 400 years of silence, I imagine their spiritual receptors could have been rather dried up. So how was John going to re-open those hearts that they could see God? I'm expecting to hear things like reminding them of the prophecies about the Christ, remind them of the law and how it reveals their need for a savior, remind them that they are supposed to be a people holy and set apart. So let's see what Gabriel says, check out Luke 1:17:

"With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before Him (the Messiah), to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord."

Definitely some reference back to old prophets, wisdom, righteousness. But what sticks out to me is this bit, "turn the hearts of parents to their children." Seems really out of left field in this context. What does that have to do with anything? Not a note in my bible of explanation. Thankfully, my friend's bible commentary was more helpful and pointed us to Malachi 4:5-6, the very last word from God before the 400 years of silence:

"Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse."

So it is not just a random insertion. It's the last word spoken before the 400 years of silence, first word spoken after, like bookends. So it seems like there could be something really important about it.

It wouldn't have been said if it were unnecessary. If it were super easy for parents to love their kids, why would this be so important for John to do? So for one, this feels like validation of the challenge to love kids, I can breathe a little sigh of relief for having that feeling sometimes.

But for two, look at the purpose of doing so. Verse 16 of Luke 1 says, "He (John) will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God." How many people find it hard to want to get anywhere near Christians because Christians have been so unloving towards them or they've witnessed Christians being so unloving towards others? How many people can identify with the struggle to love God as "Father," because their own father/parent wasn't very loving? When parents abuse or neglect their children, broadly speaking, those children have a hard time with love as they go about their life. And similarly, broadly speaking, when parents love their children, those children grow into people who know better how to receive and give love with other people. But I also believe it becomes more natural to receive the love of God. Apparently it is even a key component in helping to prepare a heart, maybe the parent's, maybe the child's, to receive Christ as savior, if I'm reading these verses correctly. So . . .

Loving my kid is hard, AND, loving my kid is really important.

I can try my hardest to feed her well, keep her healthy, make her brilliant, make her an athletic star, make her the most popular and beloved person in the world, and I'm going to fail to a greater or lesser extent in all of these pursuits. But if I can just love her to the best of my ability, maybe that'll be enough to open her heart to God, who will meet all of her truest and deepest needs without failing. When I do the hardest work, loving her, I am nurturing a heart to be receptive to a greater love than my own, a love that can push past the most unlovable characteristics and behaviors, a love that can help my child become her best possible self.

Dear fellow parents, who sometimes feel bewildered, who feel daunted by the road that lies ahead, who are all too familiar with the end of their ropes, who are afraid to admit that loving their kid is hard, and who need to know all the blood, sweat, and tears are worth the effort, take courage. There is great great significance in the love that you are about to give and have been giving to each of your children. This love in and of itself is Kingdom work. 


Dear Parents, Dear Children, let's let love come in. 


P.S. I also find great encouragement in work of the Kingdom of God, in that the work itself has important significance, but just as God's love is infinite, so the work of God seems to infinitely grow. Even though the work is significant in itself, it also tends to be a preparation for a greater work to come, and that's how the Kingdom grows, one building block at a time.