The God-Mother Complex

It’s no secret that being a mother is one cool gig.

It’s also no secret that it is sometimes the hardest job on the planet.

As you (probably) know, we welcomed a new Tiny Human into the world almost three months ago. Time has flown– and honestly, I’m not really sad about it. (I will pause as you gasp and say, “Oh, treasure these days, for they go so fast,” etc.)

Nope. I like it when my kids start getting a little bit older and more “stable,” i.e., I don’t feel like I am going to break him every time I touch him. And the better sleeping habits too. Let’s not forget that.

During the last three months of night-feedings, I have had a lot of time to think. And pray.

And I’m sure it’s just me, but if I think too much, it can quickly turn into worry.

One night early on in our son’s life, I remember stressing out about… Well, all the things. Every thought that popped into my head eventually led to what I would do if something “happened” to him. (If you want details on this, google “Risks for newborns” and then get back to me after you get done having a panic attack. I think we live in an alarmist society that can make the most stable person nuts… but that’s another blog post.)

I remember just being so overwhelmed with love for this new little guy that it almost scared me. That big, fat, jerkface Satan was taking that joy and turning it into fear about how I would “cope” should my kid die. (I have no real grounds for worrying as Malick is healthy as a horse…)

That Snake Satan was feeding me lies that I needed to think deeper, worry more and try harder to “prevent” anything from happening to our new son.

Then, I felt a figurative tap on my shoulder (heart?) from God.

Newsflash: I. WASN’T. GOD.

Who knew, right?? I needed to stop trying to fill His shoes or, as ridiculous as it sounds, “Help” God. (Like the Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Creator of Heaven and Earth needed my “help” to keep my kid alive.)

I had developed a God-Mother complex. And no, not the sweet godmother that is designated at a child’s christening. Not the sparkly Bippity-Boppity-Boo godmother from Cinderella either.

I was a “God-Mother” who wanted to act, think, and live like GOD. I had somehow convinced myself that the more I did (i.e, worried) the safer my kid would be. I had unintentionally decided that I wanted God’s power when it came to my children.

Newsflash Numero Dos: That’s NOT my job. And there’s a good reason for it.

Because I would be a lunatic if I had God’s power. (I’m already hard enough to live with. Ask my husband.) Plus, I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my specific, unique role as my kids’ Mama.

God is God for a reason. And He doesn’t need this “God-mother” to “help” Him with His job.

I checked his resume. Trust me. He’s fully qualified. (Someone please remind me of this next time I start wigging out about things I can’t control.

Once I realized (again… and again…) that I wasn’t God (duh!) the pressure I put on myself eased up. I was able to focus on my darling son’s smile and live in the moment– just ENJOY it. And, when I lapsed a bit and started to worry, I programmed myself to pray hard and pray often.

So friends, if you are struggling with a God-complex whether it’s in parenting, career, relationships or anything else, take it to the Cross. Have a conversation with Him. Crack open the Bible and take a good, hard look at the Lord’s resume.

If God wasn’t in charge, I’d be worried. But He is. So I’m not.

Here’s to letting God be God,