Lord, Lord, Lord.


This process of writing to you almost every day is a strange one. And I have to say that sometimes it gets a little embarrassing. I’m striving to be authentic and vulnerable as I share about my life as a mother, in hopes that those of you out in the blog-reading abyss might somehow connect and be encouraged. But I’ll admit I spent all afternoon Wednesday regretting what a complainer I was in my last blog entry.

How many mothers in the history of this planet have cared for their sick child (usually more than one at a time) while their men were out hunting the next day’s meal? How many women have searched last minute for a babysitter so they can make it to a doctor’s appointment? How many women have felt alone in their anxiety? I know there are a lot of women/mothers (many of you who are actually reading this blog) who are struggling with serious and painful life crises right now. To you I apologize for using this as a place to hang my laments.

Even as I say that, I admit that what I wrote was sincere. And I’m grateful, as always, for the comments I received. I love hearing your voices and knowing you’re in this with me. Yesterday afternoon as I sat in a doctor’s appointment at the breast specialist, fearing the worst and hoping for some words to offer the Lord in my anxiety, I heard Tracy’s prayer from her comment, how sometimes she can only just get out, “Lord, Lord, Lord.” I remember knowing a guy in college who once said sometimes his favorite prayer was simply: “Jesus.”

My results were clear; all is well. My son, despite his fever, was content in the care of my friend, Christie, who came through in the clutch for me. And my husband is now home for good for a long chunk of time. So, what did I learn this week?

I think I learned that praying in my weakness, praying in full recognition of the gaps in my soul, sometimes means simply saying the name of the one who rescues me in those gaps. As I read before bed last night from my new book A Praying Life, I came across a passage dwelling on that exact prayer. Paul E. Miller describes his continual prayer as often being: Father, Father, Father, or sometimes, Christ. He compares such a prayer to, “a little child who runs to his mother saying, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy’” (63). For those of us who are the recipients of our children’s exact pleas, we can understand that such a prayer may be exactly what God wants to hear from us, an acknowledgement of who He is and what we need. And usually what we need is Him.

So, I’m signing off, grateful for the week of snuggling with my weak little boy on the couch when I could’ve been doing something more productive, grateful that God sees me the same way as I see my son: weak, needy, lovely.

Lord, Lord, Lord.


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3 Responses to Lord, Lord, Lord.

  1. ML

    No regrets. You write what so many feel, but are afraid to say. Your honesty is refreshing and encouraging knowing I’m not the only mom who struggles with some of the same thoughts. Glad your results were clear. Will keep August in my prayers.

  2. Esther

    Hey was thinking about you and what you had to say here. I too have often felt this struggle between wanting to be authentic and vulnerable on my blog and then wishing I had not been so open because ultimately I want to encourage and challenge, not invite others into the muck.

    I tend to process my thoughts out loud so fortunately (and unfortunately) sometimes that happens on the www for all to read.

    I’m thinking it’s about showing the whole process. If in my authenticity I were to discover that I was wallowing in a state of negativity it probably would be good to get real about that. Which I have done and will most likely have to do continually.

    But if all we ever show is the positive upbeat aspects of our lives we would be showing a lie.

    Thank you for your willingness to be vulnerable but also live in the light of hope.

  3. Pingback: The Cynical Spirit vs The Childlike Spirit? « mama:monk

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