“Blessed is she who believed that the Lord would fulfill His promises to her.” Luke 1:45

When I was younger, I imagined accepting an Academy Award for Best Actress. My life as an “adult” is much less glamorous. I now role-play in my shower time (literally the only time of day my kids leave me alone!) that my housewife, stay-at-home mother-of-three lifestyle is picture perfect.

I fantasize about how romantic my relationship is with my husband. In my daydreams, he is a perfect gentleman and meets all my emotional needs with sensitivity and affection. I have the three most well behaved children who are polite and quiet.

I envision myself perfectly put together like one of those Stepford wives complete with heels, pearls and apron, and polished off with perfectly coiffed hair, ruby red lips and immaculately manicured nails. My waistline appears as though I had never had children, and I have not one frown line upon my brow.

I smile and hum as I create five-course meals for my family daily. I have patience with my children, I teach them with grace and confidence and I always know what to say.

I am submissive and respectful to my husband, delighting in taking second place to his wants and needs and bowing to the needs of the children. I cook, clean and sew, and I am of service to my church as I volunteer for everything!

Behind closed doors after the little angels are tucked safely into their beds, I still have the energy and desire to be intimate with my husband. I guess you could say I have it all together.

Jealous? Don’t be. It’s not even close to the reality I’m living.

Here’s the real picture.  I have a great relationship with my hubby. But most days it’s not without effort from both of us. My husband and I have been married for 10 years. We have three children who are not exactly perfect, but they sure are loads of fun, quite compassionate and delightfully energetic!

My waistline looks like I have carried three children, maybe more. I definitely like to put myself together when I leave the house, and I especially like Sunday morning as it is an excuse to dress nicely and feel pretty for once rather than being covered in food, sweat and snot. Most days I’m lucky to get a shower.

I do make three meals a day for the five of us, sometimes more, because my little boy, my youngest, is the PICKIEST eater EVER!

I can assure you I do not always do these things with a smile on my face. Sometimes these daily tasks are met with disdain as I recall doing the exact same thing the day before.

What? I’m supposed to feed them every day? Yes, and that’s exactly what I do. Some people would define this as insanity: doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. And that’s how I feel most days—insane. There’s never enough of me to go around. By the end of the day I have very little left to give.

Then the real torture sets in. The guilt. I should have done better. Why did I overeat? Why couldn’t I have had more patience? Why didn’t I say this? Why did I say that? Why couldn’t I be everything everyone needs me to be?!

After all the groveling has passed, I remind myself of some simple truths. I may not “feel” like I am enough, but I am.  God would not have entrusted so much to me if He hadn’t thought I could do it…with His help, of course.

In fact, He has given me the task to raise up these three children and to be the best wife I can be so that I can learn to lean on Him rather than trying to bear it alone (2 Corinthians 12:9).

I will experience defeat at the end of each day that I choose to do this task by myself. Or I can take the strength that is found only in knowing Christ, and I can choose to live in the corner of His bountiful grace.

That way, when I do stumble in the depths of motherhood—this sacred work that has been entrusted to me, to mold these little people into big instruments for God’s use—I can know for certain that it requires help.

How could I possibly think that I could do such a momentous job without the guidance and wisdom spoken from God’s Holy word? Very simply, I can’t. At least, I can’t do it with the intension of raising them as Godly offspring (Malachi 2:15).

So I step out of the shower. Once I dry off, wipe the mirror down, and take a look at my reflection, I realize that the five minute daydream about how I wish life were is not so appealing after all. My children hear the water stop and rush into my bathroom, and I count my blessings as I sit in this unglamorous, messy, beautiful, exhausting, deep-soul-work job of motherhood. It is then that I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be.