Learning to trust

I have had a rough couple of nights, like any mom with a very young baby.


Yet unlike most moms, the source of my sleeplessness has not been my baby, but rather, myself.

I find myself wide awake at one, two, and three o'clock in the morning, near tears and feeling utterly helpless and weighed down with the immense responsibilities of raising an actual human being, something I feel so unworthy to do, and at which I feel hopelessly incapable of succeeding.

Besides that, I find myself destraught at the the idea that I don't know when I'll get to see many of my best friends again, now that we've left Ontario. I hate the feeling that I will become the "peripheral friend". As in, when my name comes up in conversation, the response would be "Oh yeah, I vaguely remember her. But then she had a baby and up and moved away. Pass the Cheetos, would you?"

Anyway, Sunday morning at Mass, I found myself for the first time in a long time praying from my heart. It wasn't poetic, and it might not even been phrased in my mind in a whole sentence. Something along the lines of "Help. Inadequacies! Motherhood! Me!"

Going up to receive Communion, I remembered the words from a recent homily I heard. Even though I enjoyed it at the time, it seemed as though it was intended for me to hear, played over in my head, then, over a week later.

"God can do for you what you cannot do for yourself."


I entrusted this baby of mine long before he was born to God. I must say, I think it "worked".

He really is a grace-filled child who lives up to his name which means "rest," "peace" or "contentment."

But me? I guess I had forgotten to pray for myself, to entrust this whole baby-rearing work to our God of endless mercies.

So I did, rather bashfully, ask for God's help. I wasn't of the mind to pray for my sleeplessness, but rather, get at it's root: the fears I have of "failing" as a mother.

We've all read of saints who came from terrible parents. People like St. Thomas Aquinas or St. Clare of Assisi. Despite their parents efforts to thwart the Holy Spirit's work in them, they became canonized.

So imagine me, someone who certainly has no intention of taking Noah away from God's will for him. Could it be, that despite my inadequacies, that with even a smidgeon of surrender and humility, I could raise up a wonderful child? A saint, even? Not because of my efforts, but rather, my ability to get out of God's way.

Moms out there reading this, say it with me now: God can do for you what you cannot do for yourself.