Just You Wait: Looking Ahead with Hope
If you’ve been a mother longer than a few days, there’s a good chance you’ve been on the receiving end of what I like to call the “just you wait” response. (And, if we’re honest, there’s also a decent chance we’ve all been on the giving end of it too.) You know the scenario: you quickly mention a difficult phase or a hard night of mothering, and you’re met not with empathy or understanding but with a bigger challenge that’s to come. It may sound something like this:
“Think it’s hard to sleep while you’re pregnant? Just you wait until the baby’s born—no more full nights of rest for you!”
“Just you wait until they start talking! It’s even harder to get them to go to bed then.”
“You think one is hard? Just you wait until baby number two comes along—it’s chaos!”
“Terrible twos?! Just you wait until she’s a teenager; it doesn’t get easier!”
These responses seem to be a normal, almost expected, part of motherhood culture. And while they’re typically not intended to harm, they can leave us feeling discouraged and full of dread, as though our struggles don’t matter and our future is a thing to fear.
At one point, I determined it would be best if we eliminated the “just you wait” phrase from our vocabulary—that doing away with it would prevent those discouraging moments. But now I’m not so sure. Rather than putting it away completely, could we use it as a tool to spur one another on?
The gospel, after all, is the ultimate “just you wait” story. When Jesus’s disciples were awed by his healing miracles, I imagine he longed to look at them and say, “Just you wait! Soon I’ll conquer death once and for all!” And even now, we live in a tension of “already but not yet”—walking in the days between one coming of Christ and another yet to be experienced. All around us, as we experience God’s faithfulness in parallel with the world’s brokenness, we hear whispers of “just you wait.” Something better is coming—something more beautiful than we could imagine.
What if we used those three little words—“just you wait”—not as vehicles for warning and discouragement but as opportunities to proclaim this hope and goodness to moms in seasons behind us? What if we shared the good news that, because of Christ, we can anticipate the future rather than dread it? What if this became the launching pad for speaking about the joy we’ve found in all phases of motherhood? What a gift of encouragement to those who are walking where we’ve once been.
I’m still a fairly new mom in the grand scheme of things. And yet, as I recall my earliest motherhood memories, I can certainly think of some “just you wait” words I would share with my former self:
As an expectant mother trying to find a comfortable position while the baby inside played soccer with my rib cage: “Just you wait until you get to kiss those little feet and count those toes; they are strong, but they are so precious.”
As the mother singing my baby to sleep again, wondering if I’d ever get a full night of rest: “Just you wait until that baby sings your words back to you. There are few things sweeter than hearing a tiny voice sing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’”
As the mother awaiting the arrival of baby number two, worried about how a second child would impact family dynamics: “Just you wait until your bathtub is full of bubbles and two kiddos splashing and giggling together; having a front row seat to see siblings create their own unique bond is such a privilege.”
As the mother enduring toddler tantrums and just wishing this phase would end: “Your consistency and care will bear fruit. Just you wait until that toddler starts to model the behaviors you’re working hard to illustrate. It is so rewarding.”
As we live out our days, let’s take note of our “just you wait” moments. The ones we want to remember and share as words of encouragement. The ones marked with beauty and whispers of heaven. And when we come across a fellow mom in the trenches—one who’s having trouble seeing beyond the difficult season right in front of her—let’s proclaim God’s faithfulness with a preview of what’s waiting for her on the other side.
While we may not know what exactly is around the bend for each mom, we can proclaim the gospel to one another—telling and retelling the story of a Savior who lived and died and lives again and even now redeems all of our broken, difficult moments.[1] The good news of Jesus means that, in every season, there is hope and renewal and joy. It means that, with every new phase of motherhood and the accompanying challenges, there are also new glimpses of grace and reminders that God is doing something beautiful and redemptive, even in the messy and mundane of our everyday. What might happen for us—for our friendships, our attitudes, our views of our children—if we chose to highlight and call one another’s attention to that beauty and redemption?
We don’t need to be told that motherhood is hard; we know that already. We do, from time to time, need to be reminded that it’s also worthwhile and fulfilling and an incredible—albeit imperfect—picture of the love the Father lavishes on us. May we be vessels of that remembrance to one another. And may our “just you wait” moments bring good news of great joy—news that points toward what’s to come and turns our focus toward the best news of all: the hope and promise we have in Christ.
[1] Hebrews 10:23-25
