Epic fail – or grace filled momma?
Somewhere along the way some one (Nicole O’Dell) decided I was the do-it-all momma. That’s fine. It’s kind of flattering, until I realize how narrow that little pedestal is.
Then I’m looking every which way…where’s the staircase that spirals down from the pedestal to the reality of mothering. No matter how good some days are, others can be called nothing but (to quote my nine year-old boy) an epic-fail. Not a teeny fail. A small fail. A barely-even-notice-it happened fail. They can only be labeled epic-fails.
Days like the one where I wrote a check out for my daughter to take to her private gymnastics class along with the detailed directions for the babysitter on how to get there…only to give her the wrong time! Multiply the fail by the fact I couldn’t take texts because I was in the middle of an hour-and-a-half lecture with graduate students. Epic Fail.
Or there’s the day where I wake up and need to acknowledge that my patience must have skedaddled across the ocean over night. It is nowhere to be found. Not under my bed. Not in my car. Not in my bathroom where the lock mysteriously pops out because a child has used a Lego to lever it open. Instead of being a patient, long-suffering picture of a mother who would put June Cleaver to shame, I’ve lost my patience so many times, I’m ready to turn in my mothering card and ask for a transfer to Siberia before I do serious harm to my children’s development.
I cling to the reality that the only perfect one is Christ. While He created me with a longing for perfection, He also knows I am woofully un-up-to the task. Instead, He promises His strength is made perfect in my weakness. (II Corinthians 12:9) His strength is perfect. My weakness allows that strength to show through. Thank You, Jesus!
I pray frequently that God will keep me from doing anything that will become a stumbling block in my children’s relationship with Him. I have to trust that includes my less-than-perfect moments as well as the ones I could receive the blue ribbon for perfect mothering. He created my children. And He decided I was the right mother for them. Or they were the right kiddos to carve me into the woman He wants me to be.
On those days I fail, I rest in those truths. How about you?