Last week after Kekoa's doctor appointment I was feeling kinda sorry for myself.  We were talking about some recent difficulties, and the doctor turned to Kekoa and said, "Gee, you're making your parents work hard!  Being a tough kid is NOT the way to get siblings!"

I had been handling all of the strange quirkiness that is Kekoa's digestive system fairly well, actually.  I hadn't thought of it as too much work, like things were spinning out of control.  We're adapting.  In fact, we're even enjoying some of the changes that are increasingly attachment parenting.

But that comment made me feel like gosh, aren't I just the most put-upon mother in the world?  And the attitude just went downhill from there.

In the middle of the mopeyness, I was reading If, by Amy Carmichael.  And here are a few of the tidbits she offered:

If I put my own happiness before the well-being of the work entrusted to me; if, though I have this ministry and have received much mercy, I faint, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am soft to myself and slide comfortably into the vice of self-pity and self-sympathy; if I do not by the grace of God practice fortitude, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve around myself, if I am so occupied with myself that I rarely have "a heart at leisure form itself," then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If monotony tries me, and I cannot stand drudgery; if stupid people fret me and little ruffles set me on edge; if I make much of the trifles of life, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I make much of anything appointed, magnify it secretly to myself or insidiously to others; if I let them think it "hard";...then I know nothing of Calvary love.

And so it goes.  I feel like the trend right now among young mothers is to admit how hard it is to be a parent, rather than trying to put on a face of perfection. That's a great, necessary thing. Let's free each other from the judgmental push to adopt my parenting philosophy.

But I must acknowledge the difficulties in order that I may encourage others, not to gain a free pass to self-pity.  No matter how sleep-deprived I am, sin must be mortified in me.  I must trust that God gives grace as I need it, that I have no more claim to sympathy than anyone else.

Is parenting easy?  Heavens, no.  But does God give grace to fit the need?

That's a question I must answer in faith with a resounding "yes".