Blessed are those who recognize they are spiritually helpless. The kingdom of heaven belongs to them. —MATTHEW 5:3 GOD’S WORD
On Tuesday I figured out how to get out of the apartment and down two flights of stairs with the laundry and the baby. It was ridiculously empowering.
Thursday I got through a nonautomatic door with the stroller; I swung it open, did a funky little hip thing to catch it on my rear, and rolled the stroller in backward. Pretty clever, eh? At this rate I’ll be able to buy groceries by the time Elizabeth is six.
What is it about the management of life with a baby that’s so overwhelming?
Have I truly become incompetent, or am I just a little slow on the uptake?
I’ve organized conferences and trained employees, and yet making a peanut butter sandwich, left -handed, with my baby on my shoulder, at 2:00 am, feels like a major accomplishment. In fact, I think it is.
It’s an accomplishment on the order of remembering where I left the wipes box, a feat as profound as getting out of the house having forgotten only three things. T his new world of motherhood is a bizarre blend of junior-high insecurity and early-onset amnesia. It’s uncomfy. I’m used to being the master of my life, accustomed to having things under control. I don’t like drinking from this fi re hose of new things to learn. I have to resort to shrugging my shoulders, laughing at myself, and accepting that I don’t know what I’m doing. I have to acknowledge that I’m not the One in control of my life, and I can’t always make everything better.
Huh. Maybe that’s the point.
Okay, Lord. You’re in charge.
