In my continual saga: my quest to “Be Still,” (my motto for the year), every time I go for a visit to “Wit’s End” I come to the same realization: I need help. And I guess maybe the “stillness” I’m craving would come more regularly if I didn’t keep forgetting to really internalize that admonition to pray more. As mothers I think we sometimes tend to try to conquer the world. I won’t speak for everyone, but sometimes I try to do everything myself. I try to be everywhere at once, and do everything at once. And sometimes I forget to pray for help. I forget that there’s someone up there who wants to calm my heart and pull me though the tough stuff. So I thought I’d share two of my favorite quotes here. Because we moms need a little spiritual pick-me-up once in a while, right?
The first quote is this:
“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily tasks, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.”
I have no idea which wise person came up with it, but it makes me feel at peace knowing that after I’ve done the very best I can do, there’s someone more powerful that can fill in the gaps.
The second quote is one from Chieko Okazaki (love her). I found this quote when I was a new mother. I thought about it all the time back then. And I’m so glad I came across it again recently because I want it to help me make a difference in the way I think again.
She talks about how in life we mothers seem to have different cubbyholes for different things…”family,” “church,” “gardening,” and so on. She said instead of thinking of our spiritual lives as one of our cubbies, it should be more like the scent in the air that drifts through all the rooms. She relates this story:
“Suppose the Savior comes to visit you. You’ve rushed around and vacuumed the guest room, put the best sheets on the bed, even got some tulips in a vase on the dresser. Jesus looks around the room, then says, ‘Oh, thank you for inviting me into your home. Please tell me about your life.’
“You say, ‘I will in just a minute, but something’s boiling over on the stove, and I need to let the cat out.’
“Jesus says, ‘I know a lot about cats and stoves. I’ll come with you.’
“‘Oh, no,’ you say. ‘I couldn’t let you do that.’ And you rush out, carefully closing the door behind you.
“And while you’re turning down the stove, the phone rings, and then Jason comes in with a scrape on his elbow, and the visiting teacher supervisor calls for your report, and then it’s supper time, and you couldnt’ possibly have Jesus see that you don’t even have place mats, for Pete’s sake, and someone forgot to turn on the dishwasher so that you’re eating off paper plates, and then you have to drive Lynne to her basketball game. So by the time you get back to the room where Jesus is still patiently waiting for you, you’re so tired that you can barely keep your eyes open — let alone sit worshipfully at Jesus’ feet to wait for those words of profound wisdom and spiritual power to wash over you, to make you different, to make everything else different — and you fall asleep whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better. I’m so sorry.'”
I’m so like this. I get so caught up in all that I need and want to be doing that I forget. I forget there’s someone out there who really wants to help. He knows everything I’m going through. He cares. Sometimes I just forget to ask for help.