I get it now

I'll never forgot that poor woman. In line at the grocery store, she spotted me with my newborn, my two year old and my four year old. She snorted down at me, "Enjoy these years. They are the easy ones. It only gets harder. Much harder."

Unfortunately for her, I hadn't slept in days. I hadn't showered in that long either, most likely. I was overwhelmed, exhausted and well past the end of my rope.

As I look back at this stranger, this lady who had barged into my weary world with extremely unwelcome sentiments, I found myself growing brave, confrontational. My cheeks grew red, my back bowed a bit and I transformed into someone else.

"Easy? This is easy? I haven't slept in days. I haven't showered in days. I haven't had a full, hot meal in much longer than that. I haven't even gone to the bathroom by myself in years and these are the easy days?????"

I was fairly screeching by the end of it. The cashier's eyes were wide and the lady took several steps backward. Her husband tugged on her sleeve and said, "Honey, let's go."

I remember looking at the cashier with a horrified expression and whispering, "Oh my gosh. I am so sorry..."

The cashier recovered quickly. 

"That was really rude of her. I remember when I was where you are. It wasn't easy. It was awfully hard."

A tear rolled down my cheek, and as the terrified grocery bagger asked if he could wheel my groceries to the car, I looked back at her and said, "Thank you."

She shrugged. "No big deal. You'll be fine. The days will go by quickly."

She leaned in a little then and said, "And the next stage is hard too. They are all hard. Teenagers especially. But at least in those days, you'll get a shower. And you'll get to go to the bathroom by yourself..." She smiled a sweet smile, and I cried all the way home.

To this day, if I see a mom with tiny children, my heart cries for her, just a little. It is hard. 

"Hang in there!" I want to yell. I want to tell her that soon it will be over, and she'll be able to breathe a little more.

I thought nothing could ever be that hard. 

I see it now, though. What comes next. My sweet friend J put it well: 

"In the younger years, it's hard on your body. You can't ever get it all done. You're exhausted all the time, and it's really hard. But as your kids get older, it gets hard on your brain. Your spirit. It just switches from the physical to the emotional..."

Oh.

I've seen it lately. I've seen my 9 year old wrestle with bigger issues. 

"What if what we believe is all wrong? What if the other people got it right, and we are the ones that are wrong?"

"I can't see Jesus. I can't see anything that happened in the Bible. How do I really know it's real?"

"Why can't I have a boy friend?"

"Why can't I watch those t.v. shows?"

"Why can't I listen to that music?"

"Exactly how does the baby get in the Mom's stomach?"

"How am I supposed to know what college to go to? How am I supposed to know who to marry, especially if I can't date?"

"What if the Bible is wrong?"

"Why is being Christ-like so hard? Why is that the only thing I can be?"

Oh. My. Goodness.

I get it now.

I hated those newborn days. I know that breaks some sort of Mommy code, and maybe I'd change my mind if I had a kid that actually slept, but those were hard days. I really didn't enjoy them. I loved my kids more than anything, but I was always relieved when they turned a year old. Whew. Okay.

But this is a different hard. This really forces me to be in constant communion with Christ. To be in His Word. To be in prayer. To be firm, consistent and patient. (And oh how often I fail at the patient.)

This stretches me. More.

I saw a war over my kid today. I saw her yearning for all that would kill her mind, spirit and soul. I've been there. I saw her today, wanting all that the world has to offer. Or thinking that she wanted it.

I wasn't scared. I'll fight for my kids in every spiritual battle that comes. Tirelessly and fearlessly. Not in my own strength, but His. I'm not going to get tired of fighting for what is right.

I know that a lot of this is just part of growing up. But. I'm also wise to Satan and his schemes. And as I saw the tears streaming down my daughter's face today, I felt the war raging. 

I know he wants to destroy my family. I know he wants my kids. I know he would love to see them end in destruction. I know.

You know what I used to do? I used to pray for my teenagers. I knew, on some level, how hard it would be. So I prayed prayers almost as soon as they were born for the days that would be hard emotionally. I prayed in some sort of "pay it forward" fashion. I felt better about those coming hard days knowing that for years, they had been covered in prayer. Multiple times.

I think today I felt those prayers. Prayers that I said for myself and for these kids so long ago. And I am reminded that I need to pray more. Because I've glimpsed the future. And that lady in the grocery line was sort of right. Those days are going to be hard.

At least I will have had a shower. Things seem a little easier to deal with if you've had a shower.

(edited to add:  I woke this morning, pondering these things still, praying over today. God so sweetly and gently led me to 1 Peter 5. A firm reminder of what we are truly battling against: Be of sober spirit, be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. But resist him, firm in your faith...)