It amazes me that [although] my husband is such a caring and compassionate man, many times he doesn’t understand me at all. The things that concern me or cause me great emotional distress don’t make him even bat an eye. And sometimes I feel like he must roll his eyes over the issues I bring to his attention that have caused me upset, yet he didn’t even realize were a big deal. We are very different.
A lot of the time when I get home from work after a long day my children don’t even seem to notice. I get up before the sun, and way before the rest of the family even begins to stir. I do what I do, in a large part, to provide for those kids, but I don’t think they even realize it. They don’t understand how tired I am, or how far a hug goes to make me feel appreciated. So when they stay in their room without even a “hey, mom,” I notice.
I have always felt blessed that my spouse finds me attractive. He takes the time to tell me I’m beautiful, and that goes a long way. But let’s be honest. On the days when my hair is frazzled, my belly is extra poochie, and the wrinkles are more than I’m prepared to see when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel beautiful, even in his eyes. He doesn’t make me feel pretty enough to combat my own bad days.
Many times I feel like I’m being used, or like I’m just a big snack machine. My children will ask me for a glass of milk, even if my husband is sitting right there. He acts like he doesn’t hear them. They want to play with my phone, have me make them a snack, take them somewhere fun, or buy them a toy. Yeah, I’ll admit that I enjoy doing things for them, and becoming a mother is one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever done in my life. But some days I want to walk out the door and not come back. Have you ever felt that way? Would they even miss me?
I grew up always wanting to be loved more. My parents loved me tons, but in my little heart, I suppose it was never enough. I couldn’t ever figure out why. Why did I long to feel special? Why did I never feel like I was enough? Why did I chase love, go through a long string of failed relationships, and do ridiculous things to make a man love me? When I had children I felt like an empty part inside me had finally been filled, but it didn’t fix everything either. I still felt fat some days and depressed others. I still felt like a crappy mom sometimes or a full-out failure in other aspects of my life. The fact was I would never feel good enough all the time, fully loved half the time, or totally appreciated and understood even some of the time. Except…
If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.
I was always taken aback by this verse. I couldn’t understand why Jesus would ask such a thing. Why would He demand you hate your family and your life to follow Him? It didn’t seem to mesh with the loving Christ I was getting to know. I knew He said you needed to pick up your cross and follow Him, and I guess that meant leaving your husband and kids too. But to hate them?! I figured, in this case, you had to be a monk or nun to really show your love to the Lord.
My life with my family was beyond what I ever dreamed it could be. It was like a fairy tale, really. But even in my storybook life I still dealt with the world and its impact on me. People let me down, hurt me, betrayed me, misunderstood me, all of the above. People could be cruel. Even people within my own flesh and blood had said things that cut like a knife. Earthly fathers left, mothers died, husbands stopped loving their wives, and vice versa. As I grew older and drew closer to the Lord I realized all the more that people could wound me deeply, but it was my choice to forgive, and it was also my choice to move on. It was my choice to not allow other people to define me.
In fact, my many roles in life did not define me either. Even the ones I really, really loved. I was a nurse, but if I messed up on the job that didn’t mean I was an utter failure. I might not know as much as other people, but my knowledge wasn’t what made me inside and out.