Staking Claim

After my little online tirade last week, I was slightly embarrassed. Yes, I was comforted by those who were brave enough to leave me words of solidarity, but still, slightly embarrassed. I mean, I am a woman of God and I admitted to swearing like a sailor in my head. It simply isn't becoming. But since when have I set out to be "becoming"? Or even use words like "becoming". (This is what happens when one cancels Netflix and instead starts reading novels set in the Victorian age. Next thing you know, I'll be sporting a corset and blushing when my husband brushes his hand against mine).

I digress.

After feeling like I hit a public 'low', I took my tattered spirit to the local bookstore, and bought all the best selling books on parenting, came home and read them all in one fortnight (there I go again!). What resulted was beyond my wildest dreams (and due to my overly imaginative mind, "wild" means 'children singing themselves to sleep using four part harmony on "Be Thou My Vision" '-kind of "wild"). I could tell you all the ways in which our home and hearth turned into a picture of domestic utopia, but I thought this picture our eldest took before our ten course Sunday night dinner (a sampling of Eastern European cuisine) says it all:

(I just love how picnik.com can turn a modern picture into a vintage look alike - don't you? For those of you who have seen other pictures of my children in past posts, these faces may seem unfamiliar to you, but since my "mothering makeover", and the charming/submissive children my offspring have turned into due to it, we have been able to adopt an additional three (pictured here)!!

***

Ok. Perhaps I've taken my foray into the world of fiction a bit too far
(for that's mostly all I've written so far, except the Netflix/reading bit. And being slightly embarrassed).
Nothing has really changed here.
The pictures I shared Friday are still my reality.
But I am fine with that. More than fine.
I continue to be shown ways to be grateful and keep my grip on sanity.

***

One of my Coffee Cottage friends, Shelly, wrote this in response to my last post:

"I have to say that something inside of me still loves the woman who keeps it together (and blogs about it) like the one you described in the first paragraph. Maybe I'm dreaming, but I'd like to think I can have at least a FEW days like that in my mothering career."

This true for me too. There are days when my blood pressure is regulated enough (and nap time is extended enough) to peruse the pages of the everlasting series of online books we call blogs. I read, glean and come back to my reality inspired. This happens most often when I read the writings of women who are a season or two ahead of me or the ones who are right in the trenches with me, but do not create an illusion of near-perfection. Women who have been where I am at, and have weathered or are weathering the barrage of countless little needs with countless raw calls for heavenly Grace to do so are a breath of fresh air. Their words can bring comfort and a sense of camaraderie. I love that about this medium of community.

 

Yet within the sound of one click, I can get suddenly feel an outsider to a tight circle of 'good, Christian moms' who exclusively and firmly proclaim the superiority of breastfeeding, organic window spray, home schooling, eating only food grown directly outside their kitchen window, disciplining by a certain method or any THING that is presented as the better way. Clarification: The listed items in previous sentence are good, even great. They themselves are not the point. The point is the fact that we of the female gender love to stake our worth on something and when we do, our pride and self worth can flourish when we find a band of sisters marching behind and waving our flag. We can take our "claim"/passion, dress it up with a fancy banner, stick a verse to it and humbly sell it to the masses. But if and when feeling as though you haven't met the mark in terms of whatever flag-waving ideal you're comparing you or your parenting or your living (or whatever "it" is) to, RELAX.

God knows.

He knows you, 

He knows your children, 

He knows your husband

He knows your circumstances

and all of their complexities

far better than ANY one sitting 

in front of a keyboard,

far better than even you do.

Seek HIM first

and, while you're at it, foremost.

And by 'you', I mean 'me'.

It is to myself I am writing

just now.

He will show me the way on the child who is leaving me exasperated (and grey-haired!),

on the dynamics of a relationships that have unresolved issues

and any other matter that concerns me.

I realize that the ways in which He whispers (or shouts) to me

in whatever form He chooses,

and in whatever time frame He goes by

might sound a little or a lot different than what

you hear from the same Father.

For while there are Truths about His character and intent that

can not be disputed, and while His love for us is equal in it's depth, 

His handling of our needs is as unique and distinct as our individual DNA.

This deeply personal, tailor-made Truth is one I am willing to stake my claim to.

Now...back to the trenches, but not before I treat myself to my sweet daily afternoon reward for getting through the morning! 

Thanks for stopping by, my friend!