M Is for Mama: A Rebellion Against Mediocre Motherhood

by Abbie Halberstadt

Just because something is relatable doesn’t mean it’s not mediocre.

Relatability—while helpful at times—is not the gold standard of motherhood.

Sure, we can bootstrap our way through a day, a week, a month, or even a year. But without Christ’s transforming power at work in us, we will inevitably slide back into our patterns of complacency or anger.

The only way to effect real change—the kind that produces lasting joy and fulfillment—is to pursue what Romans 8:29 calls conformity to the image of Christ.

Of course, the truth is that while we are all created in God’s image, he has graciously granted us different aspects of his nature, and that is where the sameness ends. And praise the Lord for that!

We do not have to be slaves to the culture of mediocre motherhood, which says, “I stank at motherhood today. You too?” We do not have to find solace in the knowledge that wine o’clock is coming (I am not objecting to wine specifically but rather the dependence on it). We do not have to find our identity in fist bumps of solidarity with similarly burned-out moms. Fist bumps are awesome and burnout is real. And there is nothing wrong with acknowledging the hard and seeking encouragement.

But when our goal is validation rather than Christ, it ultimately pushes us down into the mire of self-focus and, all too often, self-pity.

“Everything you see me doing well is either the result of a natural personality bent or years of the Lord’s molding my weaknesses into something that more closely resembles the way I was uniquely designed to reflect his image.”

He’s not done with me yet, and I know he’s not done with you either. Seek him. Ask his guidance about where your time is best spent. Follow through when he provides direction, even if it’s not your favorite. Even when it’s hard. Because hard is not the same thing as bad. (You’ll read this phrase more than once in this book.) You will see growth. You will see progress. He will sustain you through it. Never compare your beginning or middle to anyone else’s anything. There is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all good mama.

Jill Churchill, a mystery novelist, famously said, “There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.”

Motherhood is so much more than feel-good affirmations that there is no wrong way to mother (spoiler alert: There is). That platitude has been the undoing of too many well-meaning, tired moms for me to treat it as anything other than the dangerous untruth it is.

Yes, there are a million different ways to be a good mom. But in which areas has the Lord given us special gifts, and are we actually receiving them?

But (and this is a biggie) in circumstances of preference or freedom in Christ, embarking on a holy crusade to convert everyone else to our way of thinking will never end the way we hope. Even if we do win over a few “disciples,” unless our goal is to point them to their identity in Christ, the “conversion” will be a shallow one indeed.

Healthy curiosity is a part of the learning process called life. But a desire to know what else is out there and how to grow from it is different from a desire either to emulate (because we are unsure of who we are) or to excoriate (because we are offended by anyone who disagrees with us).

I may not be able to get behind every single practice performed at some churches, but if their core theology is biblically sound, I can worship there.

However, a gospel-centered view of the conundrum asks not “How can I if I don’t take care of me first?” but instead “How will Christ in spite of me?”

There is nothing inherently wrong with making plans (as long as we hold them loosely), nothing wrong with praying for a specific outcome. We need outlets and relief. We need breaks from our children, however brief. But we must remember that

no one knows this better than our loving heavenly Father, who never takes even the tiniest break from us.

If you started this chapter hoping that I would tell you exactly what kind of mother you should be, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you. I don’t know your personality, your strengths and weaknesses, your hopes and dreams, your genetics, your background—none of it. But I know the God who does. The God who placed you in the position in which you find yourself for “just such a time as this.”

And I

know this: He will absolutely give you more than you can handle—of both joy and pain. He might pile on the trouble so heavily you feel you will suffocate beneath its weight (I’ve been there). Conversely, he might slather you so thickly with joys and yesses that you’re fairly dripping with a goodness you know you don’t deserve and could never repay (been there too). Both are blessings. Both are ways that he reveals

his callings to us. Both require us to shuffle forward with tiny steps of faith and outst...

Even when he desired—nay, craved—solitude, he did not treat it as something to which he was entitled (there’s that word again). Because there’s a difference between wanting (or even needing) and deserving.

He never adopted an attitude of bitterness or resentment when his plans were “foiled” by the neediness of, well, everybody.

These moments of alone time with the Lord, my laptop, and delicious food are a privilege, not something that I deserve.

Does self-care—whatever that looks like—produce an attitude of gratitude in us? Or do we begin to expect such privileges on the regular, even to the point of pouting when we can’t have them?

The real trick is learning how to truly appreciate those moments of gifted goodness, without making them into an idol, while prioritizing time with the Gift-Giver.

I have learned that doing hard things, tedious things, needful things, is, in itself, a reward at times. Because “done” things don’t come back to bite you like “undone” ones.

Mom guilt” is applicable only if we are actually guilty of the mud our own brains are slinging at us.

God is way more interested in our holiness than a daily litany of our shortcomings (although he is so kind and patient with us when we do vent our frustrations).

That’s unwarranted mom guilt right there, plain and simple.

That guilt—or Holy Spirit conviction, rather—is warranted because I truly did not approach my profession of motherhood with excellence “as for the Lord” (Colossians 3:23 ESV) that day.

He can’t take our salvation away, but he can steal our peace if we let him.

when we truly abhor something enough to recognize it for what it is right away, we won’t be able to tolerate it, even in small amounts.

The culture of mediocre motherhood will tell us that mom guilt is (take your pick) society’s, men’s, or our mom’s tool to control us and that we should ignore it because we are perfect just the way we are. The Bible tells us that “there is no one righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:11), but despite that, nothing “can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus,” and we are “more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37-39).

The more I thought it over, prayed about it, and read my Bible, the more I realized that I had that order backward. God had given me the extraordinary privilege of raising up children for his purposes and his glory, and in addition (not in precedence), he had given me a dream of writing and publishing a book. It took more than a dozen years—nine of which I spent blogging and honing my voice and focus—and eight more kids before he (not I) saw fit to orchestrate all the circumstances that would allow those two dreams to coexist.

When I embraced “Mama” as my profession, the rest of my interests largely fell into place. Notice I did not say that they simply disappeared.

If we truly believe that we cannot continue to do good work without recognition, we will often find ourselves disappointed.

On the other hand, when we choose excellence in motherhood (however the Lord has revealed that to us, because this can look very different from a perpetually clean house and tidy hair), we always have an “attagirl” waiting for us in the pages of Scripture.

If you already are a mother, then no other profession you can claim during your primary season of mothering can trump that of your job as a mama. Why? Because nothing else has the potential to impact the everlasting souls of the precious humans who have been entrusted to you (and to no one else) as much as the act of worship that is laying aside your other interests to focus on loving your family well.

we can easily believe the lie that motherhood, of all professions, is the least legitimate. And partly because we have not trained ourselves to choose hard things and to

see the value in investing now to produce long-term fruit in ourselves and our children.

We cannot fall victim to the lie that an attitude of apathy or dismissal in motherhood will not bleed into every other aspect of our lives.

And we must not lose sight of the precious opportunity for eternal impact that sleeps so sweetly in our toddler’s bed

it taught me about God’s goodness and his care for the seemingly insignificant (as well as monumental) worries that we face every day. If you think that he does not care about your daughter’s thumb-sucking habit, think again. If I am convinced that he has abandoned me in my quest to teach my child how to read, I am mistaken.

If we do not first choose discipline for ourselves, we cannot expect to instill such a character trait in little people whose impulse control is spotty at best and whose emotions dangle on the gossamer thread of a missed nap.

It may have taken me a year to potty train my oldest child, but I have a feeling it will take a lifetime to train my heart to love Jesus more than anything else. Praise God it is a day-by-day process that we can choose to embrace, by his strength and for his glory.

If hormones are anything, they are easily offended.

In ten years, will any of the temporary stress relief you get from fussing about something that seems like a big deal now have been worth the lasting effect of your harsh words about it on your children? I knew the answer: a thousand times no.

I was trusting that two months of struggle would not define my children’s recollections of me. But I couldn’t in good conscience, as a Christian mother, keep shoving aside the conviction that hormones or no hormones, my reactions were sinful.