How God Carries Us

No one could have prepared me for how hard things would be, but I could feel the prayers. They were lifting each foot as I walked, carrying me around the grocery store and holding me together when I could no longer think straight. They were with me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and they sat with me in the morning when I didn’t have energy to face the day. They were the reason I was able to persevere through another twenty-four hours when everything in me wanted to quit.

I became a foster mom four weeks ago.

This little girl came to us at three-and-a-half years old with a personality and background of her own—one we weren’t a part of. She came with blankies that we hadn’t helped her pick out, with a hairstyle we knew nothing of how to tame, with scars and scratches on her legs from tumbles we hadn’t witnessed, and with beautiful brown eyes that do not run in our families.

Becoming an instant mom to a young child feels almost impossible. I have no way of sustaining myself, my marriage, my faith, my schedule, my energy, my friendships, or my house on my own. This season is stretching faith muscles long dormant. Leaning into others has never been more important or appreciated, and my marriage has never felt more sacred. This time has also been one of the hardest seasons of battling depression. My life has instantly become harder, my mind is more strained during the day from answering hundreds of questions, my sleep is disrupted, my emotional needs are pushed to the background, and my freedom to do whatever I want no longer exists.

But within this short season, I have also experienced a new level of being carried along by prayers as I lie down each night, wondering how in the world we got through another day, trying to dig myself out of the pit my body and mind feel they are sinking into. I can look back on these weeks of chaos and see God’s huge hand underneath me, carrying my body from place to place and battling the enemy in the territory of my mind.

There is a picture on our refrigerator of a man in pain trying to stand on his own but completely at the mercy of Christ, who is holding him up from behind. I can now connect to the pain in this picture a little more. I am drained. I don’t feel equipped for this calling. My house is a peanut butter and Play Doh mess, the potty-training laundry is piling high, my quiet time with God (and my husband) is limited to five minutes at most, I have texts to respond to and thank-you cards to write, and there is a stack of neglected paperwork to be turned in to our case worker. But putting these worrisome thoughts aside, I cannot forget that God is seeing something more.

He sees that I will be OK. I am enough because Jesus in me is enough. And he is telling me not to give up.

Jesus is always enough, and not only is he enough for me on this journey, but he is also going to be enough for our foster daughter. Jesus loves her, he took her place on the cross, and he saved her. These are reminders that I need to meditate on, too. The depression I feel will not hinder my ability to do God’s will, just as Moses’ speech issues would not hinder him from leading millions of people to the promised land.

I can just be. I can let God and others carry me along for a while. It will not always be like this and the dust will eventually settle, and when it does it will settle perfectly into places that create a beautiful picture of life. The picture I see in this moment is very messy and dark, but it is also breaking down my sinful pride. I am no longer ashamed to ask for help or to sit in the sanctuary of church and cry. I can say no to things right now without feeling guilty. I can be OK if I screw up this whole mom thing, because Jesus will be able to fill the gaps and voids that I can’t.

Psalm 121 has been a sparkle of sunlight for me in this dark and dreary storm we are finding ourselves in:

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the LORD,

who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;

he who keeps you will not slumber.

Behold, he who keeps Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is your keeper;

the LORD is your shade on your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day,

nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all evil;

he will keep your life.

The LORD will keep

your going out and your coming in

from this time forth and forevermore.”

God has been showing up for me in the form of family members wanting to babysit, friends bringing meals, other moms offering words of encouragement and tips on how to stay sane, church members bringing gifts and clothes. I am not walking this season of life alone, no matter how I might feel, especially on days when I need to lock myself in our closet and cry.

Are you by chance in a season like this? Are you allowing God to carry you?

Sometimes being carried along by God is the surrendered place he wants us to be. We can give ourselves permission to stop doing everything for others, stop trying to fill every minute of our schedules, and allow ourselves to just be. Be with him. Be with ourselves. Let go of our straining and let God carry us in his capable and loving hands.

Audrey Osborn loves sunshine, quiet mornings, half-caf coffee, cute kitties, and anything crafty. She and her husband live in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where they are excited to be pursuing foster care with the hope of bringing love to kids in need.

Photograph © Zach Lucero, used with permission