When We Fall

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18 

I sat in our tiny living room with my 4th baby laying quietly in my arms while the TV blared in front of me. My heart beat rapidly as I tried to will myself to put her down. I knew my other three children would be getting home from school soon and would need me my attention. Yet, I felt spread too thin to listen to one more story about school or friends. My mind was numb from sleepless nights, baby cries, diaper changes, and all the other mothering responsibilities that happened every day. 

I did not have any plans for dinner, AGAIN. The anxiety I felt in my chest began to creep up into my head. 

"What am I doing?" That was all I could think. I already had the meal train from my friends deliver food to us for a good month. I appreciated the help but told them I could handle meals on my own, thank you very much. I did not need them anymore. 

Boy, I was wrong. 

Going back to the newborn stage while our youngest had been five years old was a huge step for me. During my pregnancy I wrestled with feelings of inadequacy, but hid those emotions saying, "Hey, I got this! I've been a mom three times already. This is going to be easy." I used pride to build up the image I wanted to portray.

And I was doing it again, making everyone believe I had it all covered. 

My pride got in the way of receiving the help I so desperately needed. I didn't want to ask for anything more from the people I loved. They had been so good to our family, I didn't want to press my luck. I wanted to be THAT MOM.

You know the one. who seems to have it all together? She has the perfect Facebook posts, the Instagram-worthy meals, and the family that's always smiling. Her life is seemingly magical. What I had wasn't Insta-worthy or magical.

I had pride in my heart, and it was winning the war.

I then connected with a friend I met virtually. We lived thousands of miles away from one another but shared our secrets and struggles like we had known each other for years. I opened up to her about my anxiety with getting dinner on the table and meeting my kids' needs for love and attention while tending to my new baby girl. I shared about how my husband was trying so hard to help, but with his many work hours I didn't want my responsibilities to be a burden for him. She then said something to me I'll never forget. She said, "You need to go to your church and ask for help. That's what it's there for."

I sat silently stunned. I never thought of asking anyone else for help besides my friends. They attended the same church as me, but I didn't think to reach out to other people. My mind started to shift in that moment, and I began to cry.

I knew I needed help.

I knew I could not do life alone.

I knew I was sinking further into pride every day. 

After our conversation I reached out to our church for help. I was connected with a group of women who served those going through hard times. Through tears I explained our family's situation and was offered immediate relief. These ladies rallied around us and began bringing meals several times a week. I felt an immense weight off my shoulders! The anxiety I had been feeling slowly melted away while I began to feel more in control of my situation. We were even given a wonderful thanksgiving meal. 

The ladies at my church came through for me in a way that I will never forget. I was able to get the support I needed to make up the mountain I was climbing. Pride can have its' way with us, but ultimately we have to decide to put aside our need to feel in control and allow others to help us. 

Has there been a time when your pride got the best of you? We'd love to continue the conversation in the comments below! 

-Sarah