Joyful Submission

I confess that sometimes I struggle with thoughts like, how come I always take care of the kids alone more? How come I’m the one getting up in the middle of the night?

And they escalate: he’s never had to deal with this. He has no idea how hard it is.

Now, there are logical answers to these questions: I wanted to work less. I’m the one nursing. I have no regrets about working less and no grief about where my career is. We agreed together for him to pursue a doctorate; that and his job entail occasional travel and I support that. He’s there one hundred percent as a caregiver when he’s home. It doesn’t do any good for me to get grouchy before he leaves for trips, to get inwardly resentful while he’s gone.

I’ve been realizing that at heart, I have not been submitted to Dave, to unreservedly supporting his outward pursuits, and providing the unconditionally peaceful home that allows him to lead without fear. Well, okay, mostly and definitely outwardly, things are fine, but inwardly I haven’t always had that heart attitude. Ultimately, I have not been in submission to God. It isn’t an accident that I find myself in this situation. God surely has something for these kids, and surely something for me, and until I embrace that fully, without comparison or resentment, I am not being submitted to God. He hasn’t called me to tell Dave how to do his job, or look at how my former classmates or current colleagues are doing their jobs; he’s called me to do my job, and do it well, with the strength he provides.

Frankly, it’s tough. I mean, yeah, I worked pretty hard in the past, but it was always for myself, and any suffering was temporary. But now—trying to meet everyone’s needs while fatigued, dealing with the endless demands and bickering and occasionally discipline, cooking, cleaning, doing lessons, coordinating rides and naps—doing it alone for most of the day—it’s probably the toughest thing I’ve ever done.  There’s no way to pretend, no reliable break, and my true self comes out in a jiffy. It’s a spiritually raw situation: I either submit to God and live it out by his strength and wisdom, or I tank as my fatigue-induced irritability naturally overwhelms the situation.

Sometimes I think: how much of my life has really been lived out as Christ lived? Have I just said I would follow, thought about and studied it, or have I really put myself aside, given up what’s comfortable, been willing to suffer, been driven to witness? Well, if anything, this is probably the period of my life that looks most like how Christ lived. I am a witness to these kids. I am putting myself aside and trying to live out the gospel in service with joy and intentionality. God, I submit myself to you. Give me the strength I need.