Monday, March 26, 2012

Snapshot

i'd be lying if i didn't admit that i'm feeling a bit overwhelmed these days. i can't even always pinpoint why or by what, but i'm a bit foggy. these days that melt into yesterdays all too quickly are filled with frozen pizza survival dinners and housework rarely caught up, and some days i'm okay with it, this just doing what i can, and others i feel weak and tired and incapable. this has been my journey with motherhood, and with grace. i profess 'not i but christ in me' while wishing the me looked a lot different, more perfect somehow.

lying in bed and talking last night, i whispered to him that i just wanted to be normal. and he caressed me with his gaze, and said, "no you don't. you want to be perfect."
and i do.

but i look around and all i see are my own imperfections, the ones that cry out, i can't do this, i can't do it all, the ones trying anyway.

and these voices clamor loudest some days, especially the days he's further away, and we long-distance our love and skype goodnight to the boys. i'm afraid all my brokenness will break them somehow, and i just want to hold it together so i never have to let them go.

so today i give thanks in an imperfect picture of life right now, so that i truly live in the truth of grace, the kind that glues us together, the kind that mends the shattered bits, the one that reminds me to love myself because He first loved me, not shunning my imperfections but taking them on as his own.

356. owen's fuzzy hair
357. because he slept on me all morning
358. not allowing me to get a single thing done
359. the laundry mostly caught up
360. even if not all put away
361. and connor chooses to wear War Machine, again
362. and avery isn't even wearing any pants
363. owen said "mama" for the first time
364. at just 10 months old
365. and i've been smiling ever since
366. avery's success at the potty--self led
367. which means less frustration for both of us
368. connor, the golden boy who would play outside all day
369. reminding me how important it is to be outside, all of us
370. the gorgeous weather we're having
371. and the spring plants
373. i can't get enough of the dogwoods and wisteria and azaleas
374. and texas sister calling to tell me the bluebonnets had bloomed
375. making me miss them, flowers and family both
376. rickey, my beloved, for all the ways he holds me and lifts me up
377. for my mom
378. for girlfriends
379. for coffee





6 comments:

thetoddlerwhisperer said...

Motherhood is the hardest job we'll ever love. I have days like this too, and in fact just opened up to some people in my life to tell them that sometimes, yes, as blessed as I am I do get discouraged and depressed. Thank you Jesus for new mercies. yes, coffee is on my gratitude list as well. :) Thank you for visiting over at my blogpost.

Nancy said...

Fuzzy-headed Owen saying, "Mama."

Sigh.

And, here's this from Holley Gerth's new book, You're Already Amazing: "When you attack yourself, you side with the enemy."

You don't have to be perfect. It's okay that you're broken. Your Father thinks you're amazing. And He delights in you.

Now go give Owen a hug from me :)

Amanda @ wandering said...

Yes, yes - I get this - the wanting to be normal/perfect. Worrying about how my issues will affect my boys. I think they will be stronger men someday, we are becoming a stronger family because of the imperfections. Not easy, but it is comforting.

emily wierenga said...

oh, this longing to be perfect... i think it is a God-longing, deep down, knowing we were made for more than this life. and this, the constant struggle. i love how real you are misty. thank you.

emily wierenga said...

i love you girl. thank you so much for praying for me. i'm praying for you, too. xo

Brandee Shafer said...

Popping in to say hi. Everything's a hot, piggy mess here (always), and I pretend like I don't much care while I'm thinking, all the time, if I could only get everything picked up off the floor, I'd hire someone to come in and clean. But just the idea of trying to get everything picked up off the floor overwhelms. I caught part of this show, last night, about near-death experiences, and this sort of expert was saying: inevitably, after someone has a NDE, (s)he lets go of all the things that used to drive him/her and concentrates only on becoming a more loving person. I do think so much of what we pursue is in vain. Holding your baby all morning was, most certainly, NOT. May God continue to bless and keep.