I am a “fixer,” as are you, Mama. We are the booboo-bandagers, the household organizers, the finders of the lost pacis, baby dolls, keys, basically EVERYTHING under the sun. They lose it, and we find it. Isn’t that how the world turns? We were made to fix it all… or at least that’s how it feels most days.
And when a problem is left unsolved… when you find your weathered hand grasping the fragile fingers of your tiny babe draped in wires with the steady drum of beeping machines playing in your ears, or when you become the target of your tween daughter’s fits of teen angst because she cannot seem to escape the daily snare of mean girl antics at school, or when you inhale a deep breath before attempting one more time to calm and re-direct your 6-year-old who is experiencing an anxiety-driven meltdown, these are the moments that you realize you really cannot fix it all.
Deep down, in the midst of recognizing this certainty, you feel as though you are most assuredly failing and that surely you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Through each trial, the “what ifs” threaten to steal away your peace and joy and rob you of any security with which you began your mom journey. Doubts fill your heart, and questions of why your world is spinning out of control fill your mind. Friend, the answer is so simple—you cannot fix it all, and maybe, just maybe, you were never meant to fix any of it at all. Perhaps you never truly were “the fixer.”
These children you adore are not your own. They are simply on loan. When the reality surfaces that you are indeed NOT the fix-all fixer, freedom seeps in to break your chains of mom-bondage. Your heavenly Father’s got this and always has! He gave them to you not because you are queen of the
control freaks perfected perfectionists, but because He is gracious and good and joys in blessing a hot mess like you (and me)!
Psalm 127:3-5a Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!
I am humbled daily as I witness my three little ones play and fuss and hug and hit (it happens… don’t judge) and grow before my very eyes. God delights in me doing my very best in this mom gig and doesn’t place unreal expectations on me. He doesn’t expect perfection; He simply expects reliance on His perfection.
So here is what it comes down to… I am not the fixer. You are not the fixer. WE are not the fixers. We are great at faking it from time to time, but faking it isn’t cutting it anymore. Our heavenly Father is the restorer, the healer, the protector, the perfecter, the FIXER. He will carry us when we grow too weak to haul around all of our baggage. He will watch over our children when we feel our wall of control come crumbling down around us. He will take over, and He will provide. Just be still, Mama, because “fixing” isn’t your calling.
Be still. And rest in Him.