Real Mom Andrea Shares Her Story of Fear and Faith
Will God really provide for our needs?
My friend, Andrea, and her family lost their rental home unexpectedly at no fault of their own. Andrea and Eric considered all their options: should we buy? Can we buy? What homes are up for rent?—No options for their family of five and their animals in rural Nebraska close to Eric’s job. None.
Speeding towards their deadline, they finally found a house that might work, but the deal derailed.
We picked out a bridge to sleep under,” Andrea jokes—kind of. “We knew we needed to stay in the area for my husband’s pastorate. God called us here. But how would He provide a home?”
I never considered myself an angry person, but it seems like birthing children also birthed a dragon within me that occasionally wakes from slumber—ready to blow fireballs of roaring yells, burning sentences, and attitude rampages.
Jenn moved to Poland with her husband, Vance, and sees God at work in her motherhood season starting a church-planting movement. Her days mostly consist of running the home, discipling women in a cross-cultural context, and raising two active boys.
I watch my dear friend from afar handle intense challenges with grace. Yet up close, the struggles of mothering in a different culture and climate sometimes feels painful.
I hate it when I say a harsh word or respond to my kids in an irritating tone—angry.
How can we not erupt or respond in snippy attitudes? How can we speak in a way that shows God’s love in us rather than our selfishness?
STOP. LOOK. LISTEN. (photo courtesy of pixabay)
STOP. LOOK. LISTEN.
STOP what you are doing.
LOOK at God’s Word (or the storehouse of your heart where you have planted His Word).
LISTEN to the Holy Spirit. What is the God-honoring way to interact? Sometimes for me, I need to take a moment in the bathroom to pray and calm down. Or simply talk in a soft tone instead of a quick and harsh one. The Spirit will lead you as you lean into the truth of God’s Word.
So, next time you feel the irritation sprouting up, STOP. LOOK. LISTEN.
Some days I feel completely empty—like every last ounce of selflessness and goodness is pumped out of me—and sweet faces say, “more please”, clanking their needy glasses.
More of what, child? I’m empty.
Empty from early morning wake-ups, dirty dish pile-ups, Lego tower melt-downs, and toddlers that scream in their car seat, “LET ME OUT!”—as I drive older kiddo to school and already feel behind on the deadlines, bill paying, friend needing help, and what-am-I-making-for-dinner again?