The last two days culminated in a desperate plea to my dear husband for a break, just an hour run to Walmart –by myself —because I somehow managed to completely run out of deodorant. And with the way these days have gone, it seemed imperative that I head the Walmart direction. Immediately. He graciously said go – take all the time you need – and I spent the next hour and a half nursing a salted caramel truffle blizzard from DQ, and walking down aisles in Walmart that I rarely spend time in.
Kids say mean things. They know what buttons to push. Fears swirl. All the truths I have talked about about, written about and believed leak right out my heart and I’m left with this panicked, ugly desperation that suffocates.
I texted several people to please pray. It was hard to do that. Who really wants people know that my family is a whole lot less than perfect? Again?
So I was rolling around in my head whether to write about it here, and I decided that real is good. Real is important. And it’s on my heart that moms and women everywhere deal with the fear of not being enough and what if my kids don’t turn out well and what if God’s plan includes a whole lot more pain and how in the world could I be ok if it does?
So I’m being real here. Motherhood is really hard.
But I wouldn’t trade it in a heartbeat.
By the time I got home my heart’s bruised and ragged edges were beginning to heal up with the bandage of truth, prayer and love.. and it was time finish our evening with supper and bedtime.
My husband read from the Chronicles of Narnia aloud. We are on “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”. All of us are entranced with the beauty of this story. I made coffee and sat down to spin for a little bit… and even though it took the girls ’til 10:00 pm to fall asleep, somehow the world seemed to slowly right itself again. The hugs from children and the weight of the sweet toddler on my shoulder and the I’m sorry’s and the husband embrace and the texts of grace and love from my own mom felt like beautiful God-breath on my weary soul.
A bad day does not equal failure.
Picture perfect families don’t exist.
God knows. And He is the Wound-Healer – my own and my children’s.
Truth is from him, all that is not true is straight from the father of lies. There is no middle ground, no other possible authors. There are only two. And one of them longs for my defeat, plots my downfall.
But the Other? The One who is so other?
“He is not safe.. but He is good.”
This quote pours healing over my soreness. Gently touching, filling, and reminding me that God doesn’t promise safe. He doesn’t promise easy. But – HE IS GOOD.