When You “Didn’t Sign Up for This”

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I was ready to walk out the side door and never come back.

It was that bad.

And I was done.

Ever have that day from parenting hell, when it’s likego one huge tsunami of awfulness? When, by the time breakfast is over, you’re ready to clock out, but you have another million hours to log? And you know you’re short on every single resource to deal with it without losing your sanity?

That was me.

It started out with one of my sons waking up in the middle of the night because his blanket came off.  Usually, I can sneak in, put it on without a word, and commando out.

I stumbled in, not wanting to shake off my slumber so I could easily fall back asleep, but this time, he was mumbling, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

When I finally translated what he was saying, I thought, “Please, Mikey. Not now. I’m exhausted. I can’t sing.”

I told him no, it was the middle of the night, he needed to go to sleep.  He started whining louder.

“No, Mikey. It’s bedtime.”

Louder.

My harsh whisper was getting louder, too, and now I was afraid we were going to wake up his twin.  Making the choice to have only one whiny child awake rather than two whiny children, I caved in and sang the angriest version of that sweet lullaby that would make Mother Goose cringe.

And of course he was up around 5:30. Of course he was. Then he wanted waffles and didn’t want waffles. Then he wanted bagels and didn’t want bagels.  And this fun game went on all morning long.

After his charming display at breakfast, he decided he only wanted to wear his grey shorts from Kohls (they’re not from Kohls) (and they’re 2 sizes too small) which were in the laundry. Then, he didn’t want to go to Target, he didn’t want to put his shoes on, he didn’t want to sit in the shopping cart, then he didn’t want to leave Target (and let every single person in the store know).

After that, he didn’t want to nap, he didn’t want dinner, he didn’t want to take his bath.

At this point, I’m closing in on14 hours straight of this difficult child, and I have nothing in the tank. Running on sheer fumes.

Next was the hilarity of bathtime, and when I tried to forcibly put him in the tub, he stiff-bodied me and let out a shriek that I’m sure every neighbor on my block heard.  I could feel myself getting hot and angry and the tea kettle was about to blow.

Then he did it.

He reached in the tub, grabbed a cup full of water, and flung it at me.

And that’s when I was done.

I screamed for my husband to come save his children, and I stormed out the side door, muttering a handful of expletives under my breath.

I was exhausted. Angry. And utterly defeated.

Here I was with my post-infertility son, the one I prayed and begged God for, my rainbow baby.  And all I could say was:

“I didn’t sign up for this.“

{And there may or may not have been another word that came after ‘this.’☺}

I Didn’t Sign Up for This

Have you ever said those words? 

It could be something that’s in your control and you actually don’t have to stay because it really isn’t what you signed up for – like a job (lucky you!). Or, it can be something more permanent – like a marriage you’re in or a situation with one of your kids or family members.

Maybe you’re paying for someone else’s poor choices.

Or maybe you feel like you’re paying for your choices.

Or maybe it’s something that wasn’t anybody’s choice, but here you are, stuck with something you didn’t sign up for.

Or maybe you’re doing something out of obedience to God or because you felt like it was the right thing to do, but everything is crumbling around you.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

Not What We Thought It Would Be

What we’re really saying when we say “I didn’t sign up for this” is that we had a totally different picture in mind, and nobody informed the universe that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

Maybe we didn’t think through a lot of the ‘what ifs’ and were totally blindsided.  Maybe we saw some signs but just held our breath, crossed our fingers, and hoped for the best. Maybe everything started out great and we have no idea how we ended up here.

And while all of these “what-ifs” are taking on a life of their own, all the dreams you had for your marriage, your family, your future are dying.

No “Full Disclosure Policy”

Here’s the thing about ‘signing up’ for something – whether it’s to obey God, commit to a marriage, love a child – or even if you were involuntarily signed up for something without your choosing – there’s no “full disclosure policy” that comes with it. No one informs you of every single possible scenario before you agree to commit.

You buy the house ‘sight unseen’, so to speak.  You might have a general idea, but no idea what kind of money pit is really waiting for you.

Then, when reality starts emerging from behind all the fairy dust that’s been blowing around, we say, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

[click_to_tweet tweet=”The truth is, when you get married, have kids, are part of any relationship, follow God or just choose to live a life with any picture of faithfulness in it, actually, that IS what you signed up for. You sign up for a million ‘what-ifs’ when you commit.” quote=”The truth is, when you get married, have kids, are part of any relationship, follow God or just choose to live a life with any picture of faithfulness in it, actually, that IS what you signed up for. You sign up for a million ‘what-ifs’ when you commit.”]

That’s the whole foundation of love (because love is really why we stick around, isn’t it?): you commit no matter what comes after. So, really, you’re signing up for it all.

That’s part of the cost of loving. That’s the price we pay for relationship and the honor of loving someone.

When it comes to full disclosure, none of us gets that luxury.  There has only ever been one person in all of human history who knew ahead of time what He was getting into, the degree of personal cost to Himself, and that, of course, is Jesus.

Only Jesus had all the facts ahead of time. Only God. God was the only one who ever had full disclosure – knew exactly what was coming, what it would cost, before (if there’s a thing as time with Him) He made the commitment to create and love us. Only He knew what he was getting into.

And He still chose to sign up.

All Things Being Unequal

I’d be lying if I said that the episode with my son was the only time I’ve ever thought, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

There have been plenty of times when I’ve committed, signed up, joined in, had a brilliant idea – and things just were not the way I thought they’d be: in my marriage, in friendships, in things I knew God was asking me to do that just didn’t seem right to me.  Didn’t seem fair.

And that’s the basis of our feeling: it feels unfair.

It’s a false expectation that things should be fair. That relationships will be fair.  They will never be fair.  You’ll never get back all of what you put in, in a perfectly reciprocal way (and honestly, how are we better than the Pharisees if that’s our motive? Matt. 5:46). God will certainly reward us for doing the right thing, but that other person may never carry out his end of the bargain.

We have to let go of the idea that things need to be equal. That I need to get paid back for everything I’m putting in.

We love, we serve others, we lay ourselves down, we obey – not because we get it back in return, but because it pleases God, it makes us more like Jesus, and it’s the right thing to do. And we know the Judge of the whole earth will do what is right by us (Gen. 18:25). Always.

{Clearly, this doesn’t apply if you’re in an abusive relationship. Then you just get out.}

We don’t get to know ahead of time what we’re signing up for and add in the appropriate disclaimers. In the truest definition of love, all things being unequal, we still sign up.

What You Do Get When You Sign Up

The scales might never be righted on our side of eternity. You might give more than you get back. You might love more. You might serve more.  All things might not ever be equal here. And it might suck. For a day, for a season, for a long period of time.  It just might.

That’s the broken world we live in.

But God knew everything that was coming when you signed up, even if you didn’t – and He’s got a ton of provision for you:

You can know God’s promise for supernatural peace in your difficulty. (Phil. 4:7)

You can know that God will work out everything (even your crappy situation) for your good. (Romans 8:28)

You can definitely rest-assured that God is using this situation to grow you up spiritually – which is the goal of every good parent, right? That our kids would grow up and be mature someday? This builds up all kinds of spiritual muscles like perseverance and endurance (James 1:3-4). While that’s not always glamorous and so underrated, it prevents you from being a lightweight in the faith (which actually matters a lot, long-term).

You can know that God Himself will reward you for doing the right thing. Even when you didn’t sign up for it. (1 Peter 1:6-7)

You can know that God still is in the business of bringing dead things to life. (Ezekial 37:1-14)

Grab onto one (or more) of His promises for provision and hang onto it for dear life. It’s your lifeline.

A crappy, unfair situation never trumps God’s ability to do something good with it.

Always Worth It to Sign Up

So the next time you’re tempted to walk out the side door and never come back because you didn’t sign up for this – take a deep breath. Cry a little (or a lot). Scream. Unload it all on God.  He knows your situation isn’t easy. He knows this isn’t how you thought or hoped it would be. He sees your disappointment and doesn’t scold you or judge you for it. He gets it.

Ask God to open your spiritual eyes to really see what’s going on and how He’s working.  Sometimes that shift in perspective is the boost we need to rally and get a second wind.

Ask Him for wisdom, to make the right decisions.

Ask Him for help, because you are desperate for some support.

He’s got enough strength to help you get through. And not just get through, but get through gracefully. Or maybe it’s all you can do to hang on and get through another day. That’s OK, too.

He’ll carry you through, one way or another.

And I promise, someday (it might be heaven, but someday), you’ll see why it was worth signing up for.

Thoughts? Leave a comment – I’d love to hear them and chat!

More Inspiration for Your Faith:

I’m Breaking Up with the WAHM Hustle – and Here’s Why

Why It’s a Waste of Time to Trying to Figure Out Your Life

Every Mom’s Struggle to Choose the Better Thing