It’s too early in the day to be giving up. But this kid, man. He already has me in tears.
Yesterday, he dumped all my precious coffee creamer on the floor (hence the tears), and while I was cleaning it up, he flushed the lid to Daddy’s shaving cream down the toilet — effectively clogging and overflowing it.
So far this morning has been any better.
Doesn’t he know that I have absolutely nothing left to give? I’m sick. His sister was up all night coughing. And Daddy works late, again.
Dude, here’s your Kindle. Let Mommy rest her eyes. I will be a better mom, tomorrow or next week or sometime. But right now, I have nothing left to give you.
Sound familiar? For me, too.
This place of absolute surrender — out of sheer exhaustion — is not new to me. It seems it’s God’s favorite place to lead me, lately.
And for once, instead of running from it, I’ve been leaning into it and praying. I know I’m not the only mom who get depleted, so I wanted to share my prayer of surrender, repentance, and provision. I pray it blesses you and gives you a starting point to pray over your own I-can’t-take-another-second-of-this days.
A Prayer For The Mom Who Has Nothing Left to Give
We are done. We have nothing left to give our families. We are depleted.
So here we are with our hands open, heads bowed in humility, asking — begging — for your will, for your way, for your strength, for your Kingdom come.
We can’t do this on our own. We’ve tried. We need you.
Sanctify us, O Lord.
We confess. . .
We are disillusioned by our calling.
Oh, Lord, we ask of you to help us be the mothers you have called us to be. May we see motherhood as a divine ministry. Help us to remember that what we do for the least, we’ve done for you. (Matthew 25:40)
We lack joy in the mundane.
Help us reframe every diaper change, every hard conversation, every floor mopped and toilet scrubbed into worship for you. It is all Kingdom work. Replace the weariness in our hearts with joy — joy to serve you in our mundane tasks. (Colossians 3:23-24)
We are angry.
Our exhaustion and frustration and pride — oh, the pride — has turned our hearts bitter. We get angry over small things. We say things we don’t mean, and we raise our voices like we promised we never would.
Please, take away our anger so that we may not sin. Let no corrupt talk leave our mouths. (Ephesians 4:26-29)
We’ve made plans.
We have ideas of how our children should be like, act like, look like. We’ve made world-focused plans about how our day should go. We have forgotten that many are the plans of man, but it’s your will that will always prevail. (Proverbs 19:21) May we surrender our plans to you and trust that your ways are always — without exception — best.
Sanctify us. . .
Above all, we want your will to be done in our lives and in the lives of our children.
Lord, we know that every breath you have given us is grace. We deserve death, and you have given us life — sweet, eternal life. We are sorry for attempting over and over again to make you bend to our will.
Our will has left us depleted.
We want your will to be done in our lives. We need your love to flow from our hearts. your strength to tame our tongues, your peace to flow like a river from our souls into our children.
We need your Spirit to make us tenderhearted, kind, and forgiving to the little souls that you have entrusted us. (Ephesians 4:32)
We can’t do this alone. We’ve tried.
And on days, when we literally don’t have anything else to give, help us humble ourselves to reach for the phone and ask for help.
Thank you, Father, for this gift and opportunity to know you more in our struggle. May motherhood bring us closer to you and more like you day by day.
We ask all of these things in your Son’s name,
If you are struggling with finding joy in motherhood or seeing it through Gospel-eyes, I urge you to be brave and humble enough to talk to a trusted friend or family member. There is so much power in “me too.”
No one is awesome at being a mom without God’s strength.
More than anything, sweet momma, keep praying. Keep seeking His will.
With Christ, you’ve got this.