Failure, Fragility, Fear, and Faith

I came across a funny little picture the other day.  It depicted a horror-stricken woman, clutching her chest and her hair, with the caption, "Oh, no!  I forgot to socialize the children!"  As a home schooling mother, my first reaction was to laugh.  Socialization is a bit of a joke in the home educating crowd, for reasons I won't elaborate upon in this post except to say that we tend to think that what people think of when they cry out that our kids need to be socialized is a bit over-rated.  It's not like we huddle under the basement stairs, cringing with every footfall of the quickly-approaching monster called "Real Life."  Our kids get out, they have friends, and if nothing else, they have each other.  Siblings are amazing teachers of all things "Real Life."

So I laughed.  And then I didn't.  I'd had many concerns brewing in my mind that week, from one child's physical health to another's emotional health.  The socialization issue was simmering just beneath the surface as I contemplated whether one child in particular was developing solid, positive friendships.  As much as I may laugh at the whole socialization thing, I do believe friends are important in that they give one an identity outside of the family.  Family is great, but let's face it...  Sometimes family is crazy, and you just need to get away!

So the picture of the frantic mother who had forgotten to socialize her children hit a nerve.  Besides feeling like maybe I needed to do more or differently on the socialization front, I began to wonder if I should have done more or differently in the realm of another child's physical health.  I began to feel like the mother in the picture, except that I didn't limit myself to having forgotten to socialize the children.

Rather, I put my entire career as a mother on trial.  This is, for the record, a very silly thing to do, especially at two in the morning, but it brings me to something I'd been meaning to write about before I wrote my last post about, ironically, reuniting peace and motherhood.

Failure, fragility, fear, and faith...

Failure is unavoidable.  Even with careful planning and preparation, we are bound to fail.  The first rule of motherhood might as well be, "Nothing will go according to plan."  Mind you, this isn't always a bad thing.  Sometimes, it's a very good thing.  For good or ill, though, our plans almost never fall entirely into place.  And that's on a good day.  The house will never be entirely clean, nor will the children.  (And if they are, take a picture - quick!)  It isn't all that hard to look around, see all that hasn't panned out like we had hoped it would, and feel like a partial, if not a complete failure.

At other times, fragility reigns.  We may be at peace with a messy house, grumpy children, and sleep depravity, trusting that relief will come soon.  Or maybe we have managed to keep the house relatively clean, the children predominantly pleasant, and the coffee sufficiently invigorating.  We may not "have it all together," but we're content to have "this much" together and feel able to do the important things well enough until the time comes when we feel refreshed and recharged - and up to the task of tackling all the things we haven't "got together."  Peace sits precariously upon the edge of our hearts, giving us enough strength and grace to keep going, but not enough to run carelessly ahead, solving all the word's woes.  We recognize our need to live moment by moment, worrying about neither the past nor the future nor anything else beyond our realm of influence.

I found myself, not long ago, in one of those moments of fragility, feeling tentative, yet calm.  I could not deny my failures.  Everywhere I looked, I saw them.  Clothes piled up in the hallway, awaiting their turn in the washing machine; toys swept into a pile and tossed into a basket until I had time to decide whether to keep or toss; doors closed because I had not the courage to face the clutter; books unread; lesson plans altered; children running carelessly and loudly through the house...  But none of it really bothered me that much.  As I tried to figure out why I wasn't flipping out over all of these shortcomings, something quite simple occurred to me:  I was not afraid.  Plenty of times, similar circumstances have brought tumult to my mind, tears to my eyes, and knees to my floor in desperate prayer.  This time, though, I had faith that everything would be alright in the end, even if it was a complete mess at present.

And that, I believe, makes all the difference.  Fear or faith?  Will we give into our fears of failure, or have faith that even in our greatest fragility, God works for our good?  And if we chose the way of faith, will we accept the testing that inevitably and almost immediately arises to deter us from this way?  Will we stand up to the challenges of motherhood and life when they threaten to send us hurtling onto the path of fear?  Will we insist on walking in the faith that covers chaos with peace?  Life will not stop when we choose faith that gives peace.  Instead, it will throw new challenges our way (and sometimes dredge up old ones), and we must ask ourselves again whether we will fall under fear or walk in faith.

Fear or faith?  It is a choice we must make...  and make again.  And this simple choice will make all the difference.