Super-Mom? No, Underdog.

I’ve always found it somewhat humorous when people comment that I must be “Super-woman” or “Super-mom” or some other variation of this theme.  See, here’s how it typically goes:  I meet someone new and… First, they hear that I have five kids and their body language reads – "Oh my!"  Then, they hear the ages of said children and you can see the gears turning as they carefully choose their response – some going with pleasantries, others choosing the better-you-than-me route.  Next comes my favorite, when they hear Dan is deployed and their mouths literally drop open.  And then comes the “super” stuff - which honestly is a crock.
 

For better or worse, I am certainly not super-woman or super-mom or super-anything, and I know this because I definitely do not have super powers.  If I were some sort of super-woman, however, that might be really cool because I sure could use the help. I mean think about it, what if I was really "super"?  That would be awesome!  I would be able to get my kids up, fed and out the door in the morning faster than a speeding school bus.  My anti-temper losing ability could be more powerful than a stubborn child.  And I could be able to wash tall piles of laundry in a single day.  Use my x-ray vision to see my toddler getting ready to hit her sibling in the other room.  Have bionic strength to carry multiple nap-refusing four-year-olds up the stairs in a single bound.  I mean, come on, the application of said super-powers is really quite staggering when you stop and think about it.

 

But the truth of the matter is there is nothing super-womanish about me at all.  If anything I am much more likely to be the Underdog.  Does anyone even remember that song?  Old Audio Adrenaline?  From the early 90's maybe?  Goes something like this…

I am so weak and I'm so tired
It's hard for me to
Find enough strength to feed the fires
That fuel my ego
And consequently all my pride has all but died
Which leaves me
Down on my knees

Back to the place I
Should have started from

Yep, that sounds far more like me than all that super-woman stuff.  Weak?  Tired?  On my knees?  Definitely a far better fit than finishing the laundry promptly and bounding upstairs with multiple bodies in tow.  

You see, as the lyrics state – my pride is dead.  There’s nothing left.  I have little to hide and really no energy left to hide it so let me just put it all out there for you.  This - life as I know it right now - is beyond a shadow of a doubt the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  In my lifetime I have been a camp counselor, elementary school teacher, middle school teacher, Sunday School teacher, I have called police when group home children in my care stole a van, I have carried mace to work out of fear for my well-being, I have forced myself to ignore every natural instinct and start running, but this is tougher than all of that.  I love my life, my husband and my kids more than anything, but over the past few days I have reached a point where I feel nothing more than “beat up” and “broken down.”  I’ve been on the verge of meltdown, planted on the stairs in tears, desperately seeking asylum and flat out on my face in prayer.  I am absolutely no super-woman.

And yet, through it all, here is what I’ve contemplated – I simply don’t know how people do it.  How do people who don't know Christ survive times like this?  When you live without Him in your life and your life hits rock bottom, how do you get back up again?  Because I’ll tell you what, I know that Christ is my only true source of strength and that knowledge has truly been the only thing holding me up this weekend.  Over the past 72 hours the words have run through my mind time and time again – I can’t do this.  And the fact of the matter is, I can’t.  I cannot do this.  But Christ can.  And knowing THAT gives me the strength to push on.  I know that tomorrow is coming and I know that it will be just as hard as today, but I also know that I will get there because I know that Jesus has my back and it isn’t my strength that I need to get through the day but His.  But how do people without Him carry on?  I truly don't know how I would do it.

Years ago Amy Grant recorded a song called Hats.  From the first time I heard it I have hated that song.  It has always seemed like one big complaint to me and although I understand the need to vent and talk things out (thus the whole purpose of this blog) I have never been able to get past how whiny that whole song seems.   I thought maybe when I became a mom I could cut her some slack and see the lyrics for what she meant them to be, but I still just can’t.  For those of you unfamiliar with all of these songs of yesteryear I keep referencing let me just say that Hats is basically a description of the busy life of a mom and wife driven to be the best at what she does all while wondering when the world will slow down and allow her to be herself again.  A familiar rant, I am sure, but just presented in a manner that has always rubbed me the wrong way.

See, I get the intent of the song.  Life is busy.  Mom’s are busy.  I've put a lot of things aside and given up a lot of what used to define me to be Mom instead, but that doesn't make me want to be rescued.  I don’t want to be excused from my life or run away screaming.  Sometimes, I just get to a point where I need a break.  An out-of-body experience maybe.  A chance to get away from the cacophony of my children’s complaints and arguing and two-year-old like tantrums (not necessarily being thrown by the two-year-old...).  A few minutes to myself to complete a thought or read a paragraph before I am drifting in and out of consciousness because of the late hour.  The ability to run an errand without finding a babysitter or buckling carseats before and after the stop.  Time to think, time to sing, time to do nothing but sit without having to go through a mental checklist about what’s for dinner, which laundry needs to be done, who has to be where, what we need from the grocery store, which bills haven’t been paid, which toilet needs to be scrubbed, and so on and so forth.  But I also understand that all of these desires and the lack of having them fulfilled comes with the territory.  And to get the dream means giving up the reality.  And that comes at a price that I'm really not wiling to pay.

I think what I have always hated about that Hats song is the repeated chorus line that says “Why do I have to wear…”  because I don’t have to do anything.  I don’t have to wear these hats.  I don't have to be the kind of mom I am.  I have a choice.  Actually I have a lot of them, choices that is, and I could opt out of any one of them at anytime.  Think about it - I could choose to forego my personal Bible Study time each day and take a nap instead.  I could just let my kids be brats and ignore their inappropriate behavior in public rather than taking the time and expending the energy needed to redirect.  I could ignore their backseat bickering and toddler tantrums and just crank up the radio to drown them out or walk into another room.   I could skip church and just let them sleep in, not worry about manners, forget about chores, live off of prepackaged microwave meals and ignore nutrition guidelines.  I could simply accept sassy-ness as a sign of the times, skip family devotions and give up reading to my kids as part of the bedtime routine (which with five kids takes about an hour...), and the list could go on forever.  But the fact is I don’t.  I don’t choose to opt out of any of these things.  This may be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I choose to continue the challenge.  

Earlier this week I attended a concert where I had the privilege of hearing Andrew Peterson speak and sing for the first time.  I really enjoyed his music, but more than any song he sang one thing he said has stuck with me.  When speaking of his wife he stated she once described herself by saying, “I am fighting the darkness by raising God-fearing children.”  And that, my friends, is what I choose.  I choose to wear the hats, to take the stand, to fight the good fight, and hold onto my Savior when it seems that I just can’t go on, because in the end my job as “Mom, fighter of darkness" is more important than anything else.  Yes, my job entails all of the daily grind I alluded to above and drives me to desire all the dreams I stated as well, but this fight is worth fighting.  The task I have accepted is that of raising Godly children who know Jesus as their Savior.  Children who hear scripture on a daily basis and know the power of prayer.  Children who have a solid Biblical foundation and will one day be fully prepared to take their own stand for Christ their Savior.  And that, my friends, is not a job for some sissy complainer.
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So, do I have heartache in my life, absolutely.  Does my daily grind push me to the edge on a regular basis?  It sure does.  And do the ups and downs and all arounds of raising five strong-willed, independent minded children leave me weak and tired and on my knees?  You bet.  Every day.   But that’s okay, because as the song says “there’s hope for this underdog.”   Satan can pound on my door and try to block my success in any way, shape or form he desires, but I am not in this battle alone and I am not going to give up.  The best part of my pride being gone is that I am no longer unwilling to ask for help and I am no longer slow to ask for coverage of prayer.  For years I tried to go alone, feeling like it was all up to me, but I am learning day by day that God has handpicked prayer warriors for me and provided me with wonderful friends and neighbors willing to prop me up when I can't stand alone anymore.  And as that Underdog song says my race is already won because I’ve got Someone far greater than me running it..

I'm in this race to win a prize
The odds against me
The world has plans for my demise
What they don't see
Is that a winner is not judged by his small size
But by the substitute he picks to run the race
And mine's already won

Being mom is not about being super, I have no cape in my wardrobe and I have no super powers up my sleeve - but as a Christian mom life is most definitely about the supernatural.  The darkness is real and its ruler would like nothing more than to see me fail.  I know full well that the fight for my children’s souls in on, and it is a fight I will never win on my own.  But thankfully, I have a God who knows how the story ends and never leaves me to fight alone.  So, I may not be the super-woman that some seem to think I am, but that is perfectly okay with me because I prefer the other option anyway.  With super-powers comes super responsibilities and larger than life expectations and great disappointment when the kryptonite kicks in.  Being the underdog is far more livable.  It allows me to face the day knowing that I might just screw things up, but it also reminds me that I need God to be me source of strength because “God, hallelujah in His mercy, is still on the side of the Underdog!” and that put me on the winning team.

As a personal aside, I would just like to say thank you to everyone answering my plea for prayers yesterday.  I can't begin to explain how I have felt the benefits of those prayers, but just know that the ability to write the words above and see clearly the sentiments contained within would never have been possible from my state of mind earlier this weekend.  The most important lesson God is teaching me right now is how desperately I need to be willing to reach out and ask for prayer when I need it.  Thank you!