Ever since Brooklyn started talking, we’ve had a “rule” that
she is not allowed to say the words “I can’t.” If something is too hard for her to do
on her own, she needs to try one more time, and if she still can’t do it, she
simply needs to ask for help.
I also made a promise to myself that I would never say “no”
or make the decision to bow out of something because of Brooklyn’s disability.
That was never a good reason. Somehow, some way, we would make it work.
My goal has always been to show Brooklyn that she could do
anything she wanted. That if there was a will, there was a way. I wanted her to
see life as a constant adventure, not a constant disappointment.
This strategy has worked well for our girl, and it really
hasn’t been that hard to “teach.” God has made her feisty and motivated, and I’ve
never really had to push her too hard. From the start, it was clear that Brooklyn
was going places, regardless of what test results showed. Her abilities far
exceed any of our specialists’ expectations. She has, and continues to be, the
exception in more ways than one.
As her mom, this makes me extremely proud. I love her
spirit, and I love the way she approaches life. I love when specialists tell me
how amazed they are, and I love that her teachers constantly tell me what a joy
she is to be around. My daughter is strong and happy, and in her eyes, she has
no limits.
This is exactly what I wanted for her.
There is only one little problem: She actually has limits.
And as it turns out, so do I.
This is a lesson God has to keep teaching me, and I have a
feeling it’s a lesson most of our generation needs to learn.
Somewhere along the way, we learned that we should push and
push and push until we reach some level of super power and only then,
maybe, can we feel as if we’ve reached success. Most of us, though, never
really reach a level where we are satisfied, so we keep raising the bar, taking
on more and more until we either get to the point that we are neglecting all of
the good things in our life, or we break and then live in some deep sense of
failure and shame.
I watch Brooklyn, and I see her determination and desire to
do everything her sisters are doing. So far, I have been able to help her do
those things. But as she gets older (and heavier), we are coming face to face
with the reality that she and I are both physically limited in what we can
allow her to do.
We can still try—we will always try—but sometimes when there
is a will, there still isn’t a way. Sometimes “no” is the answer, and you know
what? That is okay.
We don’t have to be able to do everything.
And, better yet, no one expects us to do everything. It is
healthy, even necessary, to set limits for ourselves. It is also healthy, even
necessary, to admit that we have limits.
Because we actually can’t do everything.
This sounds a little silly, I know. Obviously, we can’t do
everything. But I truly think that most of us walk around believing the lie
that everyone else is, in fact, doing everything, and that somehow, we should
be too.
For almost 10 years, I have juggled raising kids and working
from home. The convenience and flexibility are wonderful, and I have been able
to blow bubbles and help with school parties and be home when my girls get off
the bus. But I won’t lie: Most of those years I ran on fumes, sacrificing
things like sleep and health, and it eventually took its toll on me physically,
mentally, and emotionally.
About three years ago, I pushed myself way too far, and I
almost lost “it.” And by “it,” I mean any sense of joy in my kids, my husband,
my work, and most everything else in my life.
I was miserable.
Right at my breaking point, I decided that I didn’t want to
live like this anymore. I wanted joy in my life, and I wanted
to just.stop.pushing.
That required the hard work of adding necessary things to my
life and letting go of some of the less necessary things. None of these steps
were easy for me, and in all honestly, I did it more for my family at the time
than for myself. I knew they deserved the best parts of me, and I needed to
find those things again.
So I took action. I went and saw a counselor for a few
months to talk through some hard things. I also hired a babysitter who allowed
me to get my work done during normal hours of the day. And as much as I am
still a little embarrassed to admit this, I have (more recently) hired a
cleaning crew to come to my home once a month because I just can’t get to
it all.
I also started working out again, seeking more time with
God, and going to bed at a normal(ish) hour. I started saying “no” if I was
asked to take on something I knew was too much, even if there was a nice
paycheck attached to it.
I realized that at the end of the day, I only had 100% to
offer, not 10,000%. I realized that saying yes to something took from something
else. It’s simple math, of course, but somehow in the midst of push, push,
push, I forgot how to add—and subtract.
Here’s the truth: If you think for one second that someone
in your life (or on Facebook or Pinterest) is doing it all, it just isn’t true.
They either have help, or they are probably running on fumes and/or miserable.
I know not everyone can afford to hire a cleaning crew or
turn down a paycheck. And trust me, we
have been there. But I think all of us could probably afford to say “no” a
little more, and I’m almost certain most of us could use a few more hours of
sleep.
Saying “no” does not equal failure. A strong person knows herself
well enough to set limits and abide by them. She is confident enough to admit
weakness and ask for help from God and from other people in her life.
In this new season with Brooklyn, I can see that this is something
I am still working through. My instinct is to always push. I want Brooklyn to
achieve far more than this world expects from her—and far more than she even
thinks she’s capable of—but I also don’t want her feeling a deep sense of
failure or shame when she can’t do something. As I learned firsthand, this is
no way to live.
The balance is tricky, and she may have to learn the hard way,
like I did. In fact, I am already watching my older girls reach limits in their
own ways, and several times I have went to bed in tears over their
disappointment.
Limits are hard, especially when it comes to our children. We
want everything for our kids.
But everything just isn’t possible.
My job, as their mom, is to always encourage them to try,
but more importantly, to provide a soft place for them to land when they reach
a limit. I need to remind them that “no” is okay and that limits are good. Disappointment
forces us to grow in ways accomplishment never would have allowed.
Above all else, I need to remind them that they are not loved
because of what they can or can’t do, but because of what Christ did for them. Their
worth does not come from this world or their own abilities. It comes from God
and His ability to work all things for our good and His glory.
I also need to provide space in my life to remind myself of
the same truth. That means saying “no,” and it also means not feeling bad about saying
“yes” to myself once in a while.
There is a reason most of us are exhausted. There is a
reason many of us are living in shame. We are doing too much. We are forgetting
that limits are a very important part of growth. Instead of hitting our knees,
we are climbing ladders so high that they are buckling underneath us.
We need people to lean against. We need a solid foundation to
stand on.
As it turns out, we weren’t designed to do everything.
That, my friends, is what God is for.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my
power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly
about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
2 Corinthians 12:9