If you’re anything like me, you find yourself in this situation often: eyes closed, fists clenched, blood pressure rising, and the only words you can grumble are . . . God, help me.
The chocolate milk has been spilled for the fourth time in one meal. God, help me.
The whining plays on a loop like fingernails dragging down a chalkboard. God, help me.
The arguing in the backseat has persisted from the moment the car doors opened. God, help me.
The walls got new artwork, courtesy of a curious toddler and a pack of now-destroyed markers. God, help me.
I’m so guilty of this—of asking for God’s help without really asking for God’s help.
I pray these words, but usually half-heartedly . . . What am I doing to show that I mean the words? The answer? Nada. I go about my day and I don’t change my behavior. But that’s not how prayer works. (I wish!)
Relying on God to help us in our parenting means exchanging our natural reactions for His example and advice. It means exchanging my human weaknesses for His supernatural strength. It means trusting that I was chosen by Him to be the mother of these tiny psychos humans—regardless of how much I feel like a failure.
There’s nothing wrong with a desperately whispered, God, help me. In fact, it should be our daily plea. But, I want to show God with my choices, my words, and my attitude that I really do need His help and that I am already responding to it when I invite Him in.
Topics: Faith, Make It Personal
Holly Crawshaw
Contributor
Holly Crawshaw is a writer and editor who eats sour candy and laughs at her own jokes. A self-proclaimed cat-lady, Holly was on staff with North Point Ministries for eight years, working with volunteers, kids, and students. Holly currently serves as Lead Writer for Life Stage Strategies at Orange/The Rethink Group. Holly is raising three daughters, Lilah (the silly one), Esmae (the charming one), and Sailor (the sweet one) in her hometown of Cumming, GA.
