Holding our 9-month old daughter who weighed less than thirteen pounds, I prayed that God would send us to the right doctors. I prayed for her healing and placed her on the altar with Isaac, hoping for a resurrection. I had to trust that God would bring us through whatever happened, although my heart ached for her to be healed. She was His daughter too, after all.
Read MoreI am coming to realize that being surrendered doesn’t have to mean accepting every possible tragedy in advance. Being surrendered doesn’t have to mean having a nonchalant attitude towards the things you love and care about. I don’t need to stake my identity in my ability to surrender “correctly.” Surrender can simply mean loosening my grip on expectation. Surrender can mean practicing gratitude in the moment.
Read MoreBut what I do know is that each day of juggle and wonder and struggle and worry is stretching me to the shape of God’s intentions. His plan for me is so much greater than any “ideal” story I tell myself in my head or compare against someone else’s. And though I’m currently struggling with “balancing it all” as a working, Catholic mother, I know in the end my story is pushing me toward my ultimate salvation.
Read MoreBut with every small victory—the occasional moments when I am able to practice gentleness with my 4-year-old, despite how mad I am that he just pushed his little brother down the steps—a change takes place in me. My capacity for gentleness grows. I had no idea how much virtue I lacked in the realms of gentleness, self-control, and patience. Motherhood moved my focus from an external sense of stability and social validation to a much deeper internal need for God’s grace and guidance—inevitably helping me rely more on God’s fatherhood.
Read MoreLet’s cut to the chase: I’ve found, in recent years, that being a wife and mother can be extremely lonely.
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