Radical Trust

I spent Ash Wednesday (February 26th) ironing out my Lenten resolutions. No sugar in my coffee, daily prayer, and the addition of faith-based podcasts were among the little changes I had planned for my daily routine. Like every year, my intention was to take away unappreciated pleasures and distractions and add more prayer in the hopes of carving out more time in stillness with God. 

I had a conversation with a dear friend about radical trust and what that looked like. Completely intrigued, I began familiarizing myself with the topic. I came across an article entitled, “The 7 Habits Of People Who Place Radical Trust In God,” which explores the seven habits of people who exhibit radical trust. One habit, in particular, stood out to me: they accept suffering.   The article was such a wonderful read, I decided to add this habit to my list of lenten resolutions. I wanted, so desperately, to learn how to accept my sufferings with grace. At the time, I didn’t realize what I was asking; maybe if I had known, I would have chosen a different habit to exercise, like spending more time listening in prayer  

I began to take notice of COVID-19 the week before spring break.  A very unsettling feeling started to manifest in the pit of my stomach, and I decided to not send my children to school the last two days before spring break. A week later, the US started to have daily briefings on the COVID-19 pandemic.

Today is Tuesday, April 14th. My family and I have been quarantined at home for 34 days. I have left my home only a handful of times to pick up groceries or prescriptions. I must confess, I was very optimistic when this all started. I thought it was going to be an opportunity to slow down and really weed out the daily hustle. I would get quality time with my family. I would get a lot of stuff done. I would document our days showcasing the beautiful chaos. While this is true, I didn't anticipate the deep emotional and mental sufferings I would endure. Grieving for how life used to be and accepting our new reality. 

I have a Kindergartner and a First Grader. We are distance learning, the first week was done by the books. I followed the lesson plans sent from their teachers. By the end of the week, I began noticing how stressed my children were; how stressed I was. My one-year-old and two-year-old daughters were competing for my attention even more. I was stretched thin and my voice was rising to uncharted levels. 

Trying and struggling and failing to wear all the hats, teacher, small business owner, wife, mother, I became angry.  I began taking my anger out on those whom I love the most. 

I didn’t anticipate this emotional state in the midst of pandemic quarantine. I didn’t anticipate the anger and grief that seems to loom over me and guide my actions. I’m a very introverted person, so I expected isolation bliss; the opportunity to recharge my batteries.  Instead, I find them continually depleted as I run from one situation to another, putting out sibling fires or cleaning up gnarly messes, and the incessant high energy of four young children.

Holy Week came, and I prepared to participate in the Easter Triduum with my family.  Typically, this is the pinnacle of my Lenten journey, where I prepare to enter into the beauty of the Easter season with a much deeper love, faith, and joy. This year, I was still kicking and screaming internally, lamenting my situation, and running on adrenaline and caffeine. I felt angry because I didn't want to drink from the cup before me; I didn’t want to accept this new reality we are living.  NO, NO, NO just NO.  

I would love to write that my “ah ha” moment of enlightenment came Easter Sunday. The truth is, this was the day all of those feelings and emotions came to a head. After being exposed to COVID-19, my husband was isolated from the rest of the family while we awaited test results. I spent Sunday trying to pull myself together and failing miserably at every. single. turn. I was maxed out with stress and worry, I was tired from sleepless nights, and I was worried for my husband’s health. 

It wasn’t until the following day, Easter Monday, that I opened my Lenten journal and began pursuing pages I had filled with my Lenten aspirations pre-pandemic. I followed along reading how my reflections evolved as COVID-19 gripped our nation. A line at the beginning stuck out at me.

 I want to learn how to accept suffering.

It dawned on me then, I’ve been wandering in my own Garden of Gethsemane, right here in my home. I’ve been agonizing and lamenting over the cards my family has been dealt, and I failed to see it as an invitation. An invitation to accept the road that lay before us. An invitation to dive deeper into my faith. An invitation to radically trust

This is where I am today. I am done agonizing, and I am ready to drink from the cup that sits in front of me, holding my family a lot closer than I did on Easter Sunday.

I hope my children find these words someday, maybe during their own suffering. I hope they remember the time I spent with them in isolation; the time that challenged me in ways I never expected, molding me, inviting me to go deeper into myself and faith.  I hope they read how their mother took her suffering and turned it into something beautiful during an unprecedented time of uncertainty. I hope they see that this time has been another stepping stone in my story, and because of the daily challenges, I am a better wife, mother, and person. I hope my children learn how to navigate suffering and grief through trust and faith; these gifts don't come easily. I have fought my way to clarity, and I don’t expect suffering to cease.  I will offer adversity up and march forward with LOVE and acceptance. I choose radical trust.



Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Carla Monge click here to follow the link.