(Contributed by Sarah Richmond. Read more about all our writers here.)

Following a restless night of anxious dreams, I awaken to a new day more tired than when I had laid down. There are seasons of parenting when every decision--from dinner menus to educational choices--weigh heavier than usual, linger long in my soul. And well, don’t tell my husband I admitted this, but yes, there are stretches of time when I can turn even the semi-inconsequential of parental options into a beast of responsibility. This--the second-guessing, the worrisome heart, the spinning nighttime brain--is a mother’s lot.

Or is it?

I worry because I care.

I fret and stress and over-examine out of love, right??

Except...

Love...it is not anxious.

Ouch.

Once again, I head down a well-worn path of conversation with the Lord. We come here often-- me wound tight in a faithless bundle of weary, and Him slowly untangling knots of my overactive mind.
“And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?" (Matthew 6:27)

Revelation peels off like the layers of an onion: God is Love, and God can never be anxious, so my maternal love is not truly love when rooted in anxiety. And if love is not grand marshal to the 2 a.m. mental parades of regret and uncertainty, then what is?

Ah, yes...Control. Cue the marching band.

Losing control, or the perception of control--as if I ever held it to begin--therein lies the root of the racing in my head and heart. It is no coincidence then to recall the very first panic attack I ever experienced gripped tight about me in the middle of the night...during my first year as a parent. Having gone from a 20-something corporate ladder climbing, goal-setting woman to becoming a stay-at-home mama in yoga pants and spit up overnight was more than just a pinch shocking to my system. Talk about coming face to face with the reality of how very little I knew or better yet, could control, when it came to the tiny darling asleep in her crib down the hall.

I have come to see it was motherhood and all its bewilderment that became my catalyst of surrender. In the eventual laying down--the letting go of what was never mine to clench tight--motherhood opened the heavy barricaded door to freedom. Here lies the irony--the absolute truth of this upside down Kingdom of God--it is in the giving away of my perceived life, for that of another where real life is uncovered. In the surrender of my time, my energy, my will, space is cleared for an abundant living. A living by faith, ruled by Love.

I wish I could look back and say that throwing me into the deep end of motherhood was all it took for me to lay down my will to control the world around me. Umm, yeah...not so much.

Yes, having a child served as catalyst--a spark--but one taking years to build into a true flame. And still now, more than a decade later, I can carelessly abandon freedom in futile attempts to bend these growing little humans to my plans and purpose. It is in those such places, the anxious nights return and hover. It is a cycle I struggle to break, choosing to spend energy and thoughts on self-loathing and doubt over my role as a mother instead of hitting my knees immediately and crying out, “Jesus, help!”

I can’t help but remember Peter and his at once firm, faith-filled feet walking across water, only to in a flash think upon himself and thereby dip below the surface. In a momentary shift from surrender and trust, Peter grasped for control and nearly sank. I can relate. His desperate reaching up of a hand and cry for a Savior encourages me, builds up a tattered, tired faith running on fumes. Though Peter lost his footing--his focus distracted--he knew in the core of his spirit to call out to Jesus to take control. He believed at some essential level, Jesus could and would save him.

Peter wanted to live; I want to live.

I desire to be ruled by love, not control; mother my babies from a place of freedom not anxiety. And though I take my eyes off my guide and allow whispers of mistrust to settle over me often, Jesus never fails to grab my reaching hand and set me straight. Calming my stormy soul, He brings this mama rest.

Photo Credit: Supreet Vaid

Originally Published 9/20/2016