When You Don’t Know What to Do

Not knowing incites fear, and in motherhood, that fear multiplies, because there’s a lot I don’t know.

I don’t know the battles my kids face — the ones beneath the surface or the ones still to come.
I don’t know what might happen tomorrow.

Most of the time, I don’t know what to do. And honestly, that still surprises me.

Kids think adults have all the answers.

Well, sometimes they think we don’t know anything — but when they need answers, they expect us to have them. And since I was once a kid, I’m pretty sure I thought I’d have a lot more answers by now.

But the only thing I know for sure is that there’s a lot I don’t know. And that truth scares and overwhelms me.

Several days ago, Baylee came to me with a toothache. She’s had some trouble with this tooth before, and we were told to call the dentist if it got worse.

It got worse.

And we aren’t insured for dental care anymore.

This tooth had broken near the root, and she was crying and upset.

But there’s never just one thing, right? We’d been dealing with an onslaught of physical problems — and the doctor appointments (and bills!) that go with them. We were also nearing the end of football season, which meant I was heading into my 17th overstimulated, overloaded week without Jason around.

To be honest, I really thought I couldn’t handle another thing.

I was harsh with her — as if having a toothache was somehow her fault. Ridiculous, right?

But with the weight of everything I was carrying, that’s how I reacted. And then I went to my room and cried.

I was wracked with mom guilt.

A word about mom guilt: it shows up when we wish we’d handled something differently — said less, said more, stayed calmer. Maybe it was out of your control. Maybe you were out of control. Either way, it can eat away at you and bring you down.

As moms, we have to have enough fortitude to regulate our own emotions and guide our decisions. And where we fail, we have to face it.

If you need to apologize, do it.

Here’s the thing — when kids are wrong, we expect them to say sorry. But everyone makes mistakes. Even people in authority, like police officers, teachers, pastors, and parents.

So if you wrong your kids, it’s important to say I’m sorry. It teaches them that humility is the right response to wrongdoing and that no one is perfect.

I had to apologize to Baylee. I told her, “I’m really sorry I reacted that way. I know you’re hurting. What I should have said was, I know your tooth hurts, but I really don’t know what to do right now. Let’s pray about it.”

She understood that. So we waited it out, and within a few days, we had a dentist appointment. Because I couldn’t see beneath the surface, I had to let them look, make a decision, we’d pay, and walk out. It had to be done, and I had to leave it in God’s hands.

So, what do you do when you don’t know what to do?

As a mom, I’m really just a fellow Christian who’s a little further along in life than my kids. Time and experience teach us some things (like how to jumpstart a car or roast a turkey), but when it comes to the really hard stuff, I still don’t always know what to do.

This week I’ve been reading about the crucifixion of Christ, and I can’t stop thinking about Mary, the mother of Jesus. I’ve heard she may have been as young as 13 or 14 when she became a mother, which means that when He was crucified, she was about my age.

Mary courageously stood at the cross, at the feet of her own Son.

Then I pictured myself, standing there, watching my son die.

We know that Jesus fully understood the human experience, so I believe His heart broke for her grief. I can imagine Mary there at the foot of the cross, overwhelmed and unsure — not knowing what to do.

But being His mother had taught her to continually go to the feet of the One who does.

So today, I kneel.

I kneel before the One who knows.

The other day, I took Baylee to the dentist. I prepared to pay with credit, vowing to figure it out later. In reality, it wasn’t that much money — but a couple hundred dollars can feel like a million when things are tight.

She hoisted her cheery little self into the chair, and they took an X-ray. The dentist examined it and said she should be just fine. No intervention necessary. Baylee entertained them with her bubbly spirit and told them she loves going to the dentist.

When we walked to the desk to pay, the doctor simply shook his head at the receptionist, and we were told we could go.

No charge.

I learned so much from that moment. The weight of my current struggles was pressing on me, and when another trial hit, I thought I’d collapse under it.

There’s still so much I don’t know.

But God — who doesn’t live inside our timelines — sees the beginning and the end. He knows what we need.

We can trust Him with our tomorrows and all the things we don’t know.

Our grief, our joys. Our “what-ifs” and what is.

And when we don’t know, we can kneel.