“I just drag them to the gym with me”, said the perky, buttoned-nose blond who happened to be a police officer sitting next to me. She was quirky, cute, and I couldn't help but feeling she could also wrestle a guy to the ground in pure ninja style.
So often I read articles about how to parent when I “think” I have it all together but what happens when I find myself in a season of drought? How do I continue to be and do everything that is my “normal” as a mom to do? I don’t. It took me a long time to learn that truth but once I had the “ta da” that not just as the seasons will change, so will your role as mom. When I recognized and adopted this truth I found a new onset of freedom.
When I was pregnant, I always had this perfect picture of what raising our children in the church would look like. I’d see cute pictures of families happily serving together on Sundays and watch excited kids running into church and I couldn’t wait for that season of life to begin for us.
My 2-year-old daughter plopped down in the middle of the kitchen floor and opened a book. I was running about, cleaning and being productive around the house when I heard her sweet little voice shout from below. “Seat mama? Read!” I looked down as she patted the un-mopped floor (cue for me to sit).
Everyone loves a good treasure hunt. At Easter, kids take flight as they search out eggs filled with candy and other delights. Even as adults, we love a good movie about a treasure hunt. X marks the spot and off on a merry adventure they go!
I’ll always remember entering the abortion clinic with life inside of me and leaving with a void, emptiness and detachment so confusing that I felt less than human; only to be met by the hurtful shouts, signs and stones hurled by protesters. The most heavy and haunting stone of all was being called a “murderer”! I felt the piercing conviction of a wound so deep that I accepted, adopted, and attached to this label of degradation repeatedly in mind.
Before we begin, can we all just agree on a few things? First, let’s just agree that motherhood is hard. Period. Second, lets agree that we are all doing the best we can at any given moment! Finally, let’s agree that we all screw up, make poor decisions and respond in ways we wish we wouldn’t but are working on being better, acting better, and doing better. So even if the surface doesn’t look amazing, deep down we are all doing our best.
Starch. Clean sheets. Kids learning French in ballet class. Don't we love those heavenly moments where life runs like a smooth machine? (Before the diaper blowout and temper tantrum that is!) Staying the “chill mom” on the smooth days is easy enough, but am I easy to please when the day goes off the tracks??
When my plans go down the drain, my kids are looking to see how hard I am to please. Will I lose my joy over a clogged sink, smashed sweet potato on my shoe, or green slime in someone's hair? (True story) Is my joy tied to my excellence and expectations of perfection? To take myself much less seriously, I love to think of the extreme, hard case, shocking example of an impossible to please mom in the Bible.