The Tug-of-War Within Motherhood

MaryBeth Eberhard ponders the struggle to be the mother God calls her to be, rather than the one she thinks she wants to be. 

As We Guide Their Steps, God Refines our Hearts  

I’m often struck by the push-and-pull relationship I have with God. This tug of war is often instigated by me as I wrestle between the mother I want to be in the moment, and the mother God is shaping within me. In my heart, I want to be the mother God created me to be in all seasons, but even at age forty-nine, I wrestle with my interior self — that part that, in the moment, still longs to be fun, appreciated, and praised.  

Don’t get me wrong; I know my family loves me. But the reality is that in this season of their lives, my children don’t need a fun mom as much as they need one who speaks truth, models what is right, and remains steadfast and present — even when it costs something of me. 

When We Release our Grip, God Begins His Forming Work 

I still have a child young enough to leave me notes on my nightstand, telling me she loves me or that she’s sorry for losing her temper. (Perhaps I should follow her lead.) I’ve saved collections of these notes and texts from my children over the years, filed away for the moments when I wonder if they can see how much they mean to me, if I’m doing enough, or when I fear I’m messing it all up. There is no dust on that file.  

Yet I find myself in a season of life where I am realizing that for the betterment of my children, I must embrace the crucible God is calling me into. In surrendering my need to be seen and appreciated, I find a quiet invitation to let Him increase as I decrease. 

Our Children Learn to Trust God When We Step Back and Let Him Lead 

Parenthood requires a well of fortitude and resiliency that can only come from a deep reliance on our Creator. He who formed us knows us best and desires our good. He knows the deep longings of our mothering hearts.  

We want to end the suffering for our children. We see the potholes coming their way. We watch them hit rumble strips as they navigate their young lives. We see them get flat tires and feel stuck, and we want to go in and solve each crisis for them. 

And yet, if we pause, we can look back on our own lives and see how God walked us through those seasons in our youth. We want to swoop in, save the day, and ease the worry. We think we know what needs to be done. But what if what needs to be done is not our swift and ready fix, but the deep interior work in their hearts — the kind that teaches them to trust God? What if they need to sit with Him and ask for His help?  

Remember when we did? What if we need to grow that same trust again, right where we are? Perhaps holiness in motherhood looks less like control and more like consent — consenting to God’s work in our children and in ourselves. 

Letting Go Teaches Them to Reach for Him 

I remember sitting on an alphabet mat with my littles, blowing bubbles, reading books, and singing songs. The ease of life when our days were filled with play bonded us together. What cherished memories those are, imprinted upon my heart. As our children get older, we are challenged by the lessons the world wants to teach them. We see what is right and true and are told we are wrong and misguided. 

Every Season of Motherhood Asks for a New Kind of Courage 

This tension, feeling called by God to speak truth to our children while navigating our desire to love and be loved by them, is the crux of parenthood. We come to learn that love means speaking truth to them from an early age until we reach the gates of Heaven. How we speak it clearly matters; patience, grace, and a great deal of prayer are paramount. 

True Love Does Not Rescue. It Remains. 

Perhaps the call of motherhood in this season is not to fix, but to trust. Not to fill every silence, but to listen. Not to protect from every fall, but to pray them through it. God is forming saints in our homes, and He is forming us right alongside them. 

When the ache feels heavy and surrender seems impossible, I look to our Blessed Mother. She, too, watched her Son walk a road she could not clear for Him. Her heart broke, yet her faith held. She too was being formed; her surrender shaped by grace, her love refined through suffering. She shows us that true love does not rescue; it remains. It prays. It believes. 

So tonight, when the house grows quiet and the worries return, let’s once more hand our children over to the Lord, with a quiet whisper of, “They are Yours, and so am I.” Like Mother Mary, may we ponder every moment in our hearts and trust that each season, the tender, the trying, and the triumphant, draws us and our children closer to Him. 

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Copyright 2025 MaryBeth Eberhard
Images: Canva