The Deep End.

Let's say you have the chicken pox. They're a pain. They're uncomfortable. You try not to scratch but you do. But at least you know they only last for a moment; a short time, really. Soon your 7 to 10 days of itchies will be over and you'll be back to your old self.

Not so if you're raising a child.

Not only does raising a child come to a conclusion after 7 to 10 days, you are never ever back to your old self.

And so yesterday, as I sat on my couch and cried at the job known as parenting, I was reminded by my sweet Heavenly Father, "Quit crying, Melissa. You asked for this!"

I love how He talks to me.

Maybe He talks to you differently. Maybe He talks in a whisper because He knows you'll listen better. Maybe He talks in a parable because He knows you're creative. Or maybe He talks at the top of His lungs and with a small amount of frustration because He knows you're deaf and hard headed. Guess which category I fall under?

But that's okay...because whenever I need Him, He talks.

And yesterday He spoke to me. Reminded me that this job of motherhood, well, it's never over. Much like His job of fathering.

And this job of motherhood, well, it's difficult and frustrating because they don't listen and they yell and scream when you ask them to obey. Much like His job of fathering.

And this job of motherhood doesn't come with any guarantees that what you're doing is right, that what you're doing is effective, or that what you're doing is even within the bounds of law. But I suppose that's where my mothering and His fathering differ. He's got the answers. I don't.

And though I don't understand why she runs when I yell stop, why she screams when I say whisper, why she says she's tired when it's time to go but says she's not tired when I say it's time for bed...He does.

And today, I feel like a failure. I will not lie. I feel over my head and in too deep. I am confused half the time and fried the other half. I feel like someone has played some horrible joke on me and I'm on that Survivor show only it's down to the final two - me and her - and she's winning.

And although I read "count it all joy, my brothers" I just want to rip that page out and tape it to my spanking spoon. Then at least I'll see it half a dozen times a day.

(James 1:2-8) Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You'll get his help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believing, without a second thought. People who "worry their prayers" are like wind-whipped waves. Don't think you're going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.

That's the Book of James, here's the Book of Melissa.

Believe it or not this trial of motherhood is a gift - so look at it that way. Because when all is said and done you may not be the world's best mother, but you'll be better than you were. Because something in you will have grown and matured. So don't fear going to bed just to wake up and do it all over again, because this is what it takes for us to become all that He wants us to be.

So if you don't have a clue what you're doing - and let's be honest, you don't - pray. Beg. Plead. Cry. Moan. And then listen. Because He loves to hear us call on Him. And in an instant He is there, not making us feel like big fat losers, but making us feel just a little smidgen of peace. And who couldn't use that? So ask and then sit still and listen for Him to speak. He will. And just like that cheezy church sign that says "If you're worried - Pray. And if you pray - don't worry," well, it kinda makes sense.

So here's to all us mothers who are sitting on our couch today with Hershey's kisses in our lap and Kleenex in our hands: He's proud of us. Just ask Him. Amen.