Last Updated on March 5, 2024
A few years ago I had an interesting conversation with my youngest daughter. It truly isn’t unusual for us to have these scratch your head kind of conversations. She is my feisty deep thinking little one.
The conversation began with this sentence, “You are not my mom, Mom.”
I had to chuckle that while declaring me not her mom she referred to me as her mom. My little one had discovered how to wield a pretty hefty weapon against me and to this day I still haven’t figured out how to successfully deflect it without at least a small cut or two.
My two youngest daughters were adopted through foster care. We talk openly about it and I try to answer any questions (with a heaping load of discretion). Sometimes those questions can be tricky and sometimes they can be heartbreaking. But we work through it together.
My littlest one has taken to saying things like, “I want my other mommy!” or “I wish I lived with my other mommy”, “My real mommy wouldn’t put me in time-out”, “My real mommy would be a better mommy than you.” All the words of an angry little girl who feels secure enough in my love to lash out at me. I know that, but ouch.
She has been known to call for many people in her state of discipline distress…Poppy, Grandma, Zachary, Emma, Peter, the dog and even Santa…and thankfully Jesus.
When she decides that ANYONE in the world would be better than me, I usually have a good answer or just say nothing. She and I know that it is just a ploy, but there is something to the “other” mommy thing that just gets me. And I think it might also get her. I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me to the depth she does. I know she is just trying to make me crazy…which she does do really well. I just wish it didn’t put fear in my heart.
I can’t help but run ahead years in my mind and think about her as a hormonal teenager armed with her “get away from mom” free card. (And to be honest, I’m pretty sure I’ll be menopausal at the same time, so beware! When you see the windows in my house pulsating, I suggest you run! I digress.)
So, I need help! I don’t know how to help my little girl with these issues, AND I don’t know how to help me either. I do know that I’m not trusting God. Jesus says, “Do not worry about tomorrow”
[verse reference=”Matthew 6:34″]Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.[/verse]
How I wish I wasn’t a worrier.
It has to be possible to overcome this because God says not to worry. He doesn’t tell us to do something and not give us the ability to do it.
I’ll tell you worry has not had one positive influence on my life…not one. In fact, it has taken some things from me. It has most definitely robbed me of my joy. The joy of being in today and knowing that God has got tomorrow.
The joy of trusting God. Because there truly is joy in trusting a sovereign, loving, powerful God.
In this situation, how do I trust God?
- Trust that God gave me this precious child because it was in His perfect plan that I would be her mommy.
- Trust that God was not surprised that my husband and her adopted father would leave.
- Trust that God will never leave us nor forsake us. (Deuteronomy 31:6)
- Trust that God will equip me to be a single momma to these 5 beautiful people.
- Trust that God will be the perfect husband and father to us. (Psalm 68:5)
- Trust that I can rely on Him to enable me to raise her well.
- Trust that with God I can be the mom my kids need – even to little miss sassy-pants. (Philippians 4:13)
- Trust that God loves me unconditionally. (1 Corinthians 13:7-8)
Unconditionally.
Boy do I take that for granted.
Unconditional love is huge in its application and beautiful in its practicality. Unconditionally means He loves without conditions or limitations. That God’s love is complete and guaranteed.
There is freedom in that love – freedom to trust that God loves this little girl and this not so little girl perfectly.
And as I answer hard and sometimes hurtful words and questions, God can and will give me words that soothe and heal broken hearts – hers and mine.