Jesus, I Ain’t Got It.

It’s been one helluva month, ya’ll. That’s it. That’s the post in a nutshell. Being a mom is challenging and rewarding all at once. Being a stepmom is even more difficult, and right now the return in “reward” feels non-existent. When I tell you my faith, my sanity, and my self-worth as a mom, as a human being, as a wife are being tested, I mean I am being attacked from every mental, emotional, and physical angle possible. In the past month, our teen girls have put me through the ringer. And that’s the biggest understatement. Y’all, audacity has been at an all time high at House Rodriguez and with Christmas approaching, I don’t feel much like celebrating. In the words of the great Michael Scott, “Happy Birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party is so lame.”
I don’t really want to out them with specifics. If I were to mark a calendar with the all of the shenanigans they’ve been up to, they’d light that bad boy up just about every other day. If it’s not one, it’s another or two. They are teens that have been raised to “figure it out,” and so I have to credit their resourcefulness at times to do just that. With that comes a lot of impulsivity that brings on a lot of unnecessary frustration on all sides. I’ve been doing my best to instill honest communication getting them further. Freedoms are given as an opportunity for them to show me they can be trusted and that trust has been shattered times three. It’s been maddening and so defeating to the point I can say with absolute certainty I do not want to continue. And I’ve expressed this to my husband, to their mom, to my confidants and solaces. I just don’t feel that I have support from the two people that created these girls. That’s rough.
One of my greatest counselor’s on this side of Heaven is my aunt and godmother. I was honest with her in how I feel in the isolation, the loneliness, the overwhelm, the contempt being deafening now. She reminded me that God has given me a mission and how He’s chosen me to finish raising these souls. Not gonna lie. I struggled with that idea and I am still wrestling with it. God, I feel like I have done and said everything I possibly can at this point. Jesus, I ain’t got it. So if there’s something I haven’t said or done yet, please be the lamp at my feet and show me the how and the what. This has been my prayer.
In Matthew 25, Jesus told the story about this wealthy guy that was going on a journey and he entrusted some bags of gold to his servants. Two of the servants put the gold to work and earned more for their master. The last guy was given one bag, he buried it and hid it. When their master returned to settle, he’d seen that they had earned more. They made the most of what they had and what he said to them has been ringing through my mind: “Well done, good and faithful! You have been faithful over little; I will put you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.”
I’ve been thinking, “Lord, I feel I don’t have what it takes anymore. I am weary. I am tired. I am stressed beyond belief and I’m going to break. Am I not being faithful over little? Help me to remain faithful.” Deep down I don’t want to do what the last guy did; bury the gold I’ve been given. Right now I don’t see the road ahead. It’s like carrying overflowing, heavy laundry baskets upstairs. You can’t see where you’re stepping, but you keep moving and trust the step is there (and hope you don’t lose your balance).