Weight Based on Grace

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

I loved social studies throughout elementary school and junior high school. I read Laura Ingalls Wilder as a child, wishing I lived in a log cabin in the Wisconsin forest. I relished maps, carefully labeling the states and their capitals. I enjoyed creating the Wisconsin State project in fourth grade, learning about fur traders, German immigrants, and French missionaries. I even kept my 1984 election scrapbook until a few years ago, when I argued with Mr.Bemis that Mondale may still pull off the election. I dreamed of becoming a congressional aide or lobbyist, living in a brownstone in the heart of Washington DC.

Throughout those years, earning good grades in social studies came easy. I was so passionate about the subject; I soaked up the information like a sponge. I didn’t have to study as hard as I did in math or science, until Bob. St. Pierre’s World History class my sophomore year. I absolutely loved his class; he made ancient and medieval history come alive. My mind was filled with the treasures of the Library of Alexandria, the Code of Charlemagne, and the impact Robespierre had on the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution. Despite my love for his class, I had a rude awakening when my first test grade was a C-. With the audacity only a teenager can have, I asked him if there was some sort of mistake. He kindly told me he could tell that I hadn’t studied the material. He encouraged me to work harder next time and was sure my grades would improve. He held my lackluster grade in one hand and the possibility of a better future grade in the other hand. And he was right, with a little studying, soon I was earning higher grades.

A high school classmate of mine was featured on a podcast recently regarding her sobriety journey. After a season of hard things, Melissa admitted to her doctor that she had a problem with drinking. When the test results came back indicating that her liver was not functioning optimally, she was borderline diabetic, and had high cholesterol, Melissa knew she needed to make some drastic changes to live her best life. Within nine months of eliminating alcohol, choosing healthier foods and exercise, Melissa saw the results of her hard work. All her numbers shifted to normal, healthy levels and, more importantly, she felt better. She is sharing her journey both on Instagram and a new podcast as The Sober New Yorker. What struck me the most, despite her relationship with alcohol, Melissa, without hesitation and with total confidence, declared she was a great mom. She had no doubt that she had raised healthy, confident children.

In the last few years, I have realized how my childhood trauma informed some of my parenting. I took normal feedback from my children too personally, letting it paralyze me, instead of filtering it and making changes where needed. Additionally, my own desire to have a great family often came at the price of my children’s ability to safely express their emotions or challenges they were facing. I have asked them for forgiveness, but often the weight of these mistakes has clouded my conclusions about my parenting. It’s as if I put my evaluation of me being a mother on a scale, and more often I have tipped it towards the negative side, leaning towards the place of not being a great mom.

My husband made some of the same mistakes I made, and yet if you asked me about his parenting, I would not hesitate to tell you that he was a great dad. He worked a full-time job and was in school during most of their formative years. Yet, he chose to sacrifice his sleep so he could spend quality time with his children. He played with them, sang silly songs, and used different voices when reading The Trumpet of the Swan and The Hobbit. Once, he took them rock hunting and carried a backpack of treasured rocks for a half mile back to our car. He was affectionate and made Christmas magical for them. He used his artistic talents to help me carry out their birthday party extravaganzas. And he faithfully tucked them in at night and prayed over them.

This is a problem we face throughout our lives. We weigh something as either good or bad. And in some cases, some things are truly bad. My childhood was awful, and to heal, I needed to acknowledge the weight of that. If you have been raised by abusive parents, that is bad, and there is no good in it. But more often, there are a lot of us who are doing our best to be good parents, and we need to properly evaluate our parenting skills. We will make mistakes; we will not respond to our children perfectly calmly and be attuned to their emotions one hundred percent of the time. But if we are striving to be intentional, working on our own responses, and making our children a priority, we are doing a great job. We were never meant to be perfect, because we are human. And in our imperfections, we allow God to fill in the places in our children’s lives where we come up short.

This negative judgment creeps into all areas of my life: how I evaluate my finances, how I look at my body, and how I determine success in both my work and ministry. It’s so easy to look at things and see where I have perceived failure: I don’t own my home and I weigh more than I did two years ago. And it would be easy to take my life as a whole, put it on the scale of success, and weigh it as unsuccessful.

A few weeks ago, I had conversations with two women whom I had helped with childcare for a season. One mother was in the process of becoming a single mother and working hard to provide for her family. The other woman, along with her husband, chose to foster and later adopt two children who desperately needed a forever home. Yes, I was compensated for my time, but no one does childcare to become wealthy. Both women thanked me for the impact I have had on their families.  And the weight of that gratitude tips my scale towards success in the eyes of God.

I have a lot of exciting things happening in my life. I was just featured on a podcast, Woman Redeemed, my book is about to be published in October, and I have started a new position with a local non-profit organization. I have two incredible adult children who are married to spouses I adore, and three little grandchildren who call me Mimi. I have an amazing group of friends and I am about to celebrate 28 years of marriage to my favorite human. And I have an abiding relationship with God. My life is full and complete. So why do I continue to weigh things?

My scale has been sitting in my closet for the last year. I am still working on creating a healthy relationship with food, and weighing myself daily or even weekly became an obsession and a roller coaster ride of highs and lows. Maybe it’s time to throw out the scale completely. Not just the physical scale that gives me a number, but maybe I need to throw out the mental scale that I use to decide if I am good or bad. Maybe it’s time to show myself the same grace that God shows me and just continue to abide in Him!