Is it enough?

I am asking myself that question far too often. It has a ringing of familiarity when I type it. Like I have typed it before. It’s like it has long been a part of my heart. And my heart skips a beat just hearing it. Wanting an answer. Though this heart of mine doesn’t want any answer. I long for the answer to be yes.

Yes, mama, it is enough.

Yes or no questions are hard for me. They leave little room for interpretation. Little room for the grey zones. For me, most answers involve maybe. And most of the time when I am pondering this little question, I find myself in a moment of multiple answers. Within the torment of grey. Even the question itself is vague and layered with complexity.

Is it enough for me to be a stay at home mom? Is it enough for my kids?

Is it enough therapy for Lucas if it’s only once a week?

Is it enough to have a blog that really only features writing? Is it enough to make it successful? Is it enough if it never is?

Is what energy remains for the other two enough? After I am done regulating him. After I spend a day attached to her. After I carpool every activity for the first. Is it?

Is what I have to give spread so thin that it never meets the demands of these three?

One day these kids will be all grown up. Out on their own. And as broken and lost as I may find myself at that point. I want to know one thing. That I gave these kids every single last minuscule drop that I had to give. And I want to know it might not have been perfect, but that it was enough.

And beyond the questions of routine, schedule, and methodology comes the biggie.

The “Is it enough?” that carries the weight of a soul.

As always, my little family has been growing, changing, and shifting around. Facing all those big moments that come with age. Those big questions. We’ve tried to raise our kids in a home that loves God. That fully credits Him with this beautiful life we have going. But suddenly, Brooks has been questioning God. His purpose. His existence. And to be honest, this is one of those bridges that I thought I’d have a little more time to approach — let alone cross. But there I was, alongside Dave as we listened to this 5 year old philosopher voice his concerns about believing in something that he cannot see. Believing in something that other people don’t believe in. “Faith of a child” seems to be the saying. But my child doesn’t have that innocently blind faith. He’s smart. He’s analytical. And skeptical. He’s scared of what it means to believe in God. And he’s afraid to even pray to God because he immediately associates it with heaven. And while heaven to us may bring security in an everlasting life, to him it’s just the opposite. It’s insecurity in a life taken. A mommy or daddy suddenly gone. To a place they act as though they’d rather be than here — with him.

Heavy right? I mean shit. Kid’s got a point!

I laid in bed with Roman last night and was listening to Brooks talk to his daddy about God in the next room.

“Brooks you wanna pray tonight?”

“Nope”

“Come on bud. How about you pray?”

“I want to stay with you. Forever. I don’t want to go to heaven.”

“Buddy, you’re not going to heaven.”

Shit Dave! Yes he is!

My curiosity is now peaked with what Dave was going to say next.I mean, are we going to have the “everybody dies” conversation with a 5 year old? I wanted to go running in his room screaming,

“YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE IN GOD!!”

But Dave was calm. And patient. And above all else did something that kind of made sense. He validated his feelings. Because… well, it doesn’t always make sense. Even to us. In all honesty, this is a reoccurring conversation between Dave and I. We often struggle with and analyze the facts of Christianity. The questions. Our faith is real. And deep. And fuck if it isn’t confusing at times. BUT, we believe. We have felt it. We have been changed by our faith. We have seen God’s hand in our lives in undeniable ways.

But how do you teach that? How do you show that? And that’s it right there. The peskiest “Is it enough?” of all. Is what we are teaching and showing our kids enough?

To lead someone to Christ is filled that same grey. It implies you simply grab their hand and walk them to His feet. And that’s not what we want. We don’t want to drag a soul to the feet of God. Right now I don’t have the answers. I may never have them. It’s a grey zone just like everything else. And I just kind of faced the fact that the answer is maybe.

Because our duty — at least for this family — won’t be to lead them to Christ. It will be to lead them to the path to Christ.

That path will never be as meaningful, as hard, but as genuine unless it’s the path you ultimately chose.

So there it is. It might. It might be enough for me. For Lucas. For Brooks. For Roman. It all might be enough. And for now I can only rest in the fact that regardless of whether or not it’s enough. From the day to day, to this little blog, to their relationship with God. I’ll give all I have to give. Every last drop. And the rest? It’s up to them. To make it their life. And up to God, to provide what I cannot give. To give us more. To give us enough. To answer the “Is it enough” with a yes.

Only God has the ability to turn a maybe to a yes. It is all enough.

Ciao! Girl