Why me, God?

A desperate cry when I feel unequipped for this role

I read a quote recently that went something like this:

“God gave you this child because he knew you would keep them safe and love them no matter what.”

It was a sentence from a parent of a neurodivergent child. A phrase that brought me to tears the instant I heard it. I felt taken aback, like they had given me something to cling onto, a reason why.

But this month has pushed me to what feels like the limits of everything I possess. My patience, peace, kindness, love, sanity, even my strength to keep getting up and doing it all again. Every part of me feels pushed to the limits and I am in a place where I feel like I’m drowning, waiting desperately for that lifebelt to catch me once more.

So as that quote came to mind this week, I found myself thinking, “Why did it have to be me?”

I know being someone who is trusted, a woman of God, a mother who cares, who would never let anyone hurt her boys, these should be qualities to celebrate. Right now they feel like a trap. If I hadn’t been so reliable, my arms so comforting, if I hadn’t been trustworthy enough for the added weight of this hardship, would I have had an easier life?

I know so many mums who appear calmer, more loving, far more peaceful than myself. They ooze confidence, a quiet grace, they manage huge households or care for animals alongside children, they own successful businesses or work in the community or even just simply have a home that feels welcome and safe.

I feel like I am none of those things. That my home has become a mess, a place where tantrums and distress rule, where I don’t feel relaxed anymore. It is almost turning into a prison.

I don’t say any of this for sympathy. I feel guilt, shame, I feel so many things that make me wish I were coping better and that I knew the perfect fix for all around me.

And so I come back to that saying again. Maybe God did know I would be a safe place, that I would love my child endlessly even whilst begging my Father to take this grief from me, to heal my son from what controls his everyday.

Perhaps God chose me because I need to be refined in his fire. Or speak his truth over this life and show even in the storm I would still trust in him.

Maybe it’s none of this and I am simply living out a life that is the consequence of a fallen, sinful world.

I may never know the truth.

I choose to believe that God knows what he’s doing, even when I don’t, because He has been faithful to me when I do not deserve it. I believe that the Creator is still holding me in his arms, even as I feel like I’m falling apart. I trust that he will place people and answers in my path so I can find healing in some way for my son, even if it’s only an ease of symptoms and never a full miracle.

Please Father, pick me up when I fall. Hold me tight when I want to run. Fill my heart with your love and my mind with peace. May I be the mother you created me to be.

If you know a parent who needs to read this, to remember they are not alone in their storm, please share this with them. 💕