Jesus's hand grabs the hand of a Mom on a dark background

How I learned Jesus cares about moms

Trust God Enough to Ask

Will my prayers and faith really change anything in my life? Will God act on my behalf? Is He really merciful?

These are questions I’ve been wrestling with recently. When I was pregnant with my baby girl, I begged my Heavenly Father to take my hyperemesis gravidarum away from me.

I begged Him to let me eat and keep my food down. I begged Him to make the constant and overwhelming nausea stop. And when He didn’t, I felt abandoned.

I felt like my prayers hadn’t mattered to Him. I felt like I couldn’t do anything to merit His blessings. I felt angry that He had told me to have a baby—remember that whole multiply and replenish the earth thing?—and that I was suffering for doing just that.

I felt like I was being punished for trying to follow Him and build a family that would follow Him.

He is a patient Father though, and He held my hand through all of my questions and difficult emotions. He told me that it was okay if I didn’t understand everything as long as I knew that He loved me.

I do know that, and I’ve been holding on tight to that truth as I’ve dealt with postpartum anxiety and learned to raise my amazingly energetic, busy toddler. When I have too many questions or feel completely overwhelmed by the number of blocks on my living room floor, I keep a stranglehold on that truth.

My Heavenly Father loves me. He loves me enough that He gave His Son to be my Savior. And Jesus loves me enough to come and be my Savior. 

In the past almost two years since my daughter was born, Jesus has been trying to teach me about His gentleness. On a particularly overwhelming day the summer after I had my daughter, I was sitting on the couch when a very disturbing picture entered my mind.

I could see Christ standing in my living room with His hand raised to strike me. This image so shocked me that I immediately stopped my train of thought and turned to the scriptures.

In my mind, I knew that Jesus was gentle. I knew He’d held little children in His arms and blessed them. I knew He’d healed lepers and beggars and made room in His circle of loved ones for anyone who wanted to be there.

I knew He’d healed and helped my friends and family members in the past. I knew He’d supported, forgiven, healed, and helped me in the past as well.

But I was still struggling to balance my questions of why I’d been allowed to suffer so much, of why He hadn’t healed me during my pregnancy when I’d asked, of why I was struggling so much to be the mom I wanted to be, with the knowledge that He loved me. 

I spent months focused on verses of scripture and hymns that testify of Jesus’ gentle love and His desire to support and comfort. I found especially great comfort in the words of the hymn “Savior, Redeemer, of My Soul.”

Savior, Redeemer, of my soul,

Whose mighty hand hath made me whole,

Whose wond’rous power hath raised me up

And filled with sweet my bitter cup,

What tongue my gratitude can tell,

O, gracious God of Israel!

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *