I was directed to a blog post this morning at girl talk and it really spoke to me. The author was asked if she could parent her daughters all over again, what she would do differently. Her response:

“While I am aware of numerous ways I would want to be a better mom, one thing stands out far ahead of the rest.

I wish I had trusted God more.

For every fearful peek into the future, I wish I had looked to Christ instead. For each imaginary trouble conjured up, I wish I had recalled the specific, unfailing faithfulness of God. In place of dismay and dread, I wish I had exhibited hope and joy. I wish I had approached mothering like the preacher Charles Spurgeon approached his job: “forecasting victory, not foreboding defeat.”

What mothering failures have you predicted lately? What fears about your children lurk around the edges of your mind—or even dominate your thoughts? Do you assume things will only get worse? Are you anxious about the future and tempted to despair?

As women, we’re all vulnerable to fear, worry, and anxiety. And few areas tempt us more than mothering. But faith must dictate our mothering, not fear. Faith, as it says in Hebrews is the ‘assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen’” (Heb 11.1).

Faith toward God is the foundation of effective mothering.

I can relate to this so much. It often feels like I am literally drowning in worry for my children. I spend way too much time trying to predict how I will handle future calamaties, many of which will never come to light and remain the figment of my fatalistic imagination. I have always been a worrier, even since a young age. It’s something I am constantly fighting, and just when I felt like I got a handle on it, I had kids.

It doesn’t help that I’ve got one child living in an orphanage, and one in my not-so-friendly uterus. I often think how relieved I feel once both these kids are HERE, in their own ways, so I can see them and hold them and shower them with kisses.

But until then, I will do my best to put my worry on the self, because it really does me no good. You would think I would get this by now, but apparently I am a slow learner . . .