To the Woman Who is At Her Limit

This one is for the woman at her limit. The woman who feels the walls slowly closing in and she’s not sure whether to run for cover or lean in harder, brace for impact. We’ve all been there. Maybe we are there. But what are we to do with these limits? *This post may contain affiliate links. See full disclosure here.

I tend to not like my natural limits. I’ve been bumping into them lately and it’s not the soft sort of cushiony bumping. It’s clumsy, abrupt.

My limits feel suffocating, closing me in and I tend to rail against them like one of those rodeo bulls stuck in a chute. You know, the ones that rattle the gates to no avail, crashing the pen from every possible angle, making a racket. That’s me. Many days I’m graceful like that in my limits.

I get tired and it’s annoying because my tired rarely matches up with the amount of work that needs to be done. Why do those two never come out even? There is always something more that could be, should be, done.

But I’m done.

There is always one more way I could be, should be, tending to the hearts of these children of mine – more one-on-one time, more devotional time, more learning and board games, and I-will-drop-everything-and-really-see-you time. Again, these times never seem to match up perfectly with the time on the clock.

Why does that clock haunt me? It feels like a losing battle far too often.

And there are so many things I want to do – some wild and crazy and silly things, but many wholesome and good and faithful things. Yes, I want to teach a Bible study and spill my passion to dig deep in the Word. Of course I want to gather that group of  not quite teens and help light that fire early. Sure I want to dive into women’s ministry and do the slow work of building real community with real faces. And take that class. And read that book. Invest in my marriage exercise at least 3 days a week.

Apparently I’m not alone in not liking my limits. In 2014 alone, sales of anti-aging skin care products totaled 1.15 billion US dollars. We spent over a billion dollars to more gracefully crash into a very real limit that approaches with fine lines and wrinkles. 

The average credit card balance per card carrying US adult is estimated at almost $6,000 and is on the rise. It’s interesting how we spend more money trying to get around the limitations of our finances, isn’t it?

Statistics show that the average American got 6.8 hours of sleep each night in 2013, down drastically from the 9 hours per night Americans got in 1910. Obviously some helpful technology is at play here (light bulb, anyone?) but at what point are our inventions not all that helpful? At what point are we abusing our limits?

And more importantly, what core beliefs does this battle against our limits speak of? It’s not pretty, friend, but it looks something like this.

I want control.

It doesn’t stop at the aging process, I want to control how my kids turn out too. I want to control how much money I get to spend, how I am perceived in the world, what’s clean and what’s messy. I want to stop when I’m ready, when it’s done, on my terms. The sheer number of I’s in this paragraph scares me.

The world would be better off with more of me.

Yikes. Ouch. But, yes. I live so often like this is true. My days are numbered, my abilities confined by the innate limits of my humanity (a grace to both me and the world around me!) yet somehow, I think I know better. Just a little more me would be better.

I know best.

Of course. Our limitations have existed from our very conception and yet we push against them, push past them, because we know best. Our Intelligent Designer wove day and night and rest into all of creation, told the ocean to stop right here and set an array of planets, beyond my comprehension, into motion. So wise, of course, but when it comes to me, yes me, I know stuff.

I want to be limitless.

Ugh, I don’t like where this is going. But it’s true. I don’t like that I get tired when there is still much that needs to be done. Stopping for lunch, bathroom breaks even, can be annoying. I want to be limitless. I want to be…God.

Well, that’s an uncomfortable truth to stare at. I’ve always thought myself a bit wiser than those Israelites bowing to a golden calf, but am I? Forget the golden calf. Why bother when I can scoot myself into that position quietly, subtly, without the mess of melting down my gold jewelry.

It’s uncomfortable, friend. But it’s true.

When I take my kids to the bowling alley we still use those handy bumpers – simple guards that prevent the ball from plummeting into the gutter half a second after it leaves their chubby hands. Our story is always pretty much the same. The youngest of the bunch uses a ricocheting pattern, banking back and forth between bumpers as the ball inches toward the pins. 

When the older kids take their turn there is less crashing. With age and practice they begin to work within the confines more gracefully, only occasionally grazing the boundaries, the limits. Their method becomes more reliable, more consistent, more effective. 

Why I am so slow to figure this out in my daily life?

Here are a few things that helping.

Acknowledge my Limits

Just as we stare down fear, calling it out for what it is in order to properly address it, it helps to do the same with our limits. We know we are frenzied, worn and anxious, but these are only symptoms. What limits are we crashing into here? Are we bumping into natural barriers built for our protection?

No Rivals

I am not God. I know that. Peek one millimeter behind my Instagram window and you will know it too. I am far from perfect, limited in virtually every way and yet a part of my brain likes to pretend that this just isn’t true. Jen Wilkin (in this fabulous book) puts it succinctly, “Designed to reflect his glory, we choose instead to rival it.”

No. But yes, it’s true. 

Am I working to reflect his glory or rival it?

Choose Humility

This is the only suitable posture here, friend. I will come short. I will tire. He has designed me with limits, good limits, and I don’t have to thrash and crash. I can bow. I can stand here hands wide open, releasing my death grip on all that I was never made to strangle in the first place. Humility is a choice.

(This book on humility is gold, friend.)      

Choose Gratitude

Again, a choice. Intentionally moving our eyes, our hearts, away from all that is not, to all that He is does not change the situation, it changes us. He is worthy. May our humility lead to gratitude.

My limits remind me of just who I am. They are a place of grace, to loosen my grip, a reprieve. They position me to come right to the end of myself. And at the end of me I will always be perfectly positioned to get a better view of who God is. That is, if I can stop whining about the end of me.

Our limits are a grace, friend. They are not a punishment, but a pardon – an exchange for less of me and more of Him. What a gift.

Sometimes, we just a need a gentle reminder to see it. I’m aiming for a little less clumsy railing, rodeo bull-style womanhood, and a little more graceful appreciation around here. I hope you’ll join me.

Fresh eyes, grateful heart. Learning to love these limits, bravely.