now I'm a mom

I just started going to a ladies’ study through the book None Like Him by Jen Wilkin, and the first chapter is all about the fact that God is infinite—necessitating the acknowledgement that I am not. One of the discussion questions was, “What God-given limitation or boundary do you most want to rebel against?”

I had a hard time with this question at first, not sure if the idea was to choose a commandment I find hardest to obey, or a scientific law I find annoying, or something else entirely. But as I’ve been mulling it over in the days since, I wonder if that’s actually the point of the question: We all have God-given limitations, and what incites rebellion in one of us might be very different from what incites rebellion in another. It’s not a right-answer question, it’s a personal question. A thinking question.

My thinking has pointed me in the direction of my daughter.

Clara is a God-given limitation on my life. Her presence has drawn lines and placed boundaries in places that were once wide-open—boundaries on the clock that delineate naptime and bedtime, boundaries that alter where I can go and when and for how long, boundaries on what I speak and eat and listen to and do, because she is always watching me. Because of her, there are new limits of time and energy on the projects I can take on, the ideas I can bring to fruition, the thoughts I can organize enough to write.

Adjusting to these new limitations has been hard in a way that can feel invisible and isolating. I am often frustrated or depressed to realize that I’m not, in fact, infinite—that I don’t have troves of energy to draw from at the end of a long day; that I need eight hours of sleep even though I “should” be spending that time doing something; that I can’t usually take on the available volunteer roles at my church, or the extra unfilled shifts at my work.

It bothers me when I hear parents say things like, “I wish I’d done ___ before I had kids” or “You’re so lucky you don’t have any kids and can do whatever you want!” I never want my child to feel like a ball and chain, or a reason I didn’t get to have the life I wanted. But the limitations are real, and hard—especially without much of a family or community support system nearby. I was always a creator and a thinker and a doer. Now I’m … a mom?

Yes. Now I’m a mom. And moms are some of the most creative, thoughtful doers in the world—they just tend to be unseen. You can’t hit “publish” on most of what we create, think, and do. Our children are our masterpiece, made by God but shaped and loved and prized by us, His assigned caretakers. We are doing the work of Adam and Eve in Paradise:

Then the LORD God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it.

Genesis 2:15

The glorious garden courtyard of the Lord’s presence is no longer found in a place called Eden, but within every home and family that has been won to the Kingdom of Heaven. He dwells in us, in our children. What higher work is there for me in this moment than to “cultivate and keep” my Clara for the glory of my God?

That’s the wonder of God-given limitations: although to my small mind they often look like a bad thing at first glance, in reality they are guard-rails on my path, preventing me from wandering off toward lesser prizes than the crown of righteousness. It’s not that the only way to please God is by becoming a parent; rather, if we want to serve Him fully, we’ll need to submit to His desire and design for our lives—including the parts that appear to “hold us back”—no matter what our family situation, or lack thereof.

God is the infinite One. He intentionally created me to be finite. And sometimes being held back by my God-given limitations, while it can be frustrating or discouraging or downright painful, is exactly what I need.