So many of us entered motherhood feeling totally unequipped for the task, both emotionally and practically. Whether it was questions about how to soothe a gassy infant or questions about how to keep going on days with 3 hours of sleep, the need for helpers arrives swiftly at the doorstep. With all of these insecurities, and a real need for guidance, we quickly can find ourselves needing a mentor.

While that sounds good in theory, is it realistic to find a mentor in motherhood? And even if you find someone, how do you approach them and what should your expectations be? Here are 3 quick thoughts I have on engaging a mentor:

Shopping for peaches (especially in the winter months) is so challenging. As you survey the bin of fruit, you'll notice a wide array of options...

✴︎ Some will be shriveled and rotten-looking (Ew...definitely don't want those).
✴︎ Some will look good overall, with a few bruises that you'll have to consider cutting-off. (Is this viable and worth the money?)
✴︎ Some will be near-perfect and you'll eagerly drop them into your bag. (Yum!)
✴︎ And some will look awesome, but when you get them home and dig in, they might be brown and flavorless inside (bummer...)

While this experience rings true at the grocery store, it also somewhat rings true as we pick-through Christian resources for motherhood.

In light of this week's show on discerning if a resource is helpful, edifying and/or gospel-centered, here are some good checks to work through about a particular resource.

I think every person has a desire to see results - to feel like something is happening from our efforts, that they're making a difference. We are a culture of instant gratification after all. But when all you're doing most of the day is picking up fuzz, crumbs and toys off the floor, it can be hard to see the value. It feels very ... small. But the truth is, motherhood is not small work. It is a slow process, one that isn't obvious or grand to the world - it takes stamina, patience and vision - but the results are things legacies are made of. 

I claim I would do anything for Him. I profess that I would suffer for him - even to the point of death. But if I'm not careful, I treat him like an old trinket, cast off in a corner, gathering dust, only coming out on Sunday mornings or when I suddenly have a need.

It's a simple question really, "Do you love Jesus more than anything?" And if the answer is "Yes," then wouldn't we bring him to the forefront, bubbling over with excitement and joy over what he has done for us? Displaying him prominently in the most central place in our lives? Wouldn't we tell our friends, family - our children - about him?

When I find myself losing my temper with my children more often than normal, it can be easy for me to spiral downward, feeling guilt, condemnation and listening to the lies from Satan that I cannot change.

But when I believe this lie, what's really happening is I'm believing that I am beyond the reach of God's grace – I'm believing that the cross wasn't enough.

My motherhood is filled with lofty expectations, that often leave me with anger, frustration, and irritability. The truth is that I'm utterly and completely limited in my humanness. I'm not able. Only Jesus is.

When it comes to toiling in the call of motherhood, I often shift my focus from the upward call of Christ (Philippians 3:14) onto my self-constructed image of the "perfect" mom. Instead of working with the energy the the Holy Spirit provides for the work God has put before me, I clench my fists and drag the weight of "not good enough" as I press on to attain my idea of godly motherhood.

If you're anything like us, you've wondered, "How do I know what God has called our family to do in His name?" While the answer to that question is far more exhaustive than a short blog post, here are some thoughts that have helped us brainstorm:

When it comes to being a family "on mission" for the gospel, it's easy to fall into the trap of comparison. As we admire what God is doing through the lives of other families (who seem to never waiver in their good works, heart for the lost, or desire to sacrifice) we can chain ourselves to the iron ball of condemnation.

Without even realizing it, our mission becomes about living-up and impressing those around us with radical service INSTEAD of resting in the full righteousness Jesus purchased on our behalf.
 

Like most mothers, I have high hopes for the weeks leading up to Christmas. In my mind, we calmly put up dozens of ornaments, read long passages of scripture as a family by candlelight, and marvel at the presents piling under the tree.

The main issue with this vision? I'm pretending that my very young children are as capable as 10-yr-olds. I'm ignoring and wishing away this season of life, hoping for the future days of good tidings and great joy, feeling a little resentful that today's Christmas season looks pretty different.

Mama, your theology matters. No, it doesn't feel like it makes any difference when you are sleep deprived, bouncing a fussy infant, sending a disobedient toddler to time-out, picking cheerio crumbs out of your rug, or wiping up a potty-training accident. But is that really the case? Have you ever stopped to think about how your theology - the belief system that anchors your life - is a subtle guide that directs much of what you do?