The Boomerang Effect, Parenting Style

Some of you don't need to read anything further. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's when you JUST TOLD your kids not to do something and then, lo and behold, you do the exact same thing. I don't mean smoking, running out into the street or pushing your baby brother down (how many times a day, London? Seriously?). No. I'm talking about, well, I'm talking about this:

Yesterday, we were running a bit late for church. And if any of you know me, you know that I HATE being late for anything! I had already told London once to get her shoes on. I had Kirby in my arms and I'm ready (finally) to head out the door when I realize London STILL does not have her shoes on. "London! Get your shoes on! Now"!

Well, you'd think that would be easy, but, nooooooooo. She can't have just any pair of shoes. She simply MUST have her pink, sparkly ballerina shoes! I must admit, they are pretty, but being pretty and being where they are supposed to be are two different things. And they are NOT where they are supposed to be. She has no idea where they are and I'm not about to go hunting for them.

Her eyes are turning pink and glossy. She just cannot go without them. "Oh, yes, child. You can and you WILL! We are late!"

Then comes the stern, drawn-out lecture about how this wouldn't happen if she put her shoes back where they belong! She is told this daily. Why? Because, she's three and she can't remember stuff like this. It's normal but when I'm running late, my expectations are not normal.

I mean, honestly, evil-when-running-late-Mommy, chill on the expectations a bit, won't you?

She is handed her other pink, sparkly shoes and, though she is not happy about this, she agrees to get into the car. Off we go and everything is fine and dandy for the rest of the day. Until later that evening, when...

Mommy can't find her OWN pair of shoes!

I'm sorry. What?

I couldn't find my own shoes.

Sorry, didn't get that.

I said, I couldn't find my own shoes!

There, happy now?

Yes, that's right. I looked and I looked and I looked for my flips that I wear daily around the house. I looked upstairs, then downstairs, then upstairs again, then downstairs again, once more upstairs, last time around downstairs. After a good 15 minutes of searching every-freaking-where, I finally found them. Where were they?

NOT where they were supposed to be. And there you have it, people: The Boomerang Effect. When the "stuff" you throw at someone else comes right back at ya!

Postage Paid

A selection of childrens' letters to God. Too cute for words!

Little Miss Ingrate

When I was in junior high, I had a friend who was a middle child. She always complained to her parents that her older sister had all the privileges and that her younger sister got away with everything. Apparently, to her mother, she didn't appreciate anything she had so her mom nicknamed her "Little Miss Ingrate".

Anyone could have called me that yesterday.

I told God I didn't appreciate the gift He had given me that day. I told him it wasn't good enough for me. Actually, I told Him I HATED it! Can you imagine? God hands you a gift, beautifully wrapped with a bright, sunny-yellow bow tied around it. You open it up to find that it's not exactly the gift you had hoped for, so you stick out your lip, stomp your foot on the ground, whine, "It's nooooot whaaaaaat I waaaaaanted" and smash it to the ground at His feet.

Who would do that? Seriously? Well, ME, apparently.

What was the gift God gave me? The day. A brand new, never-been-used-before day. A clean slate. A fresh start. A Mulligan, if you will. A whole 24 hrs to do with whatever I chose. I chose to fill it up with impatience, irritation, frustration and general pissy-ness. At the height of it, when 2 or 3 things went all wrong (read: not my way) at once, I blew up and shouted, "GOD, I HATE THIS DAY"!

Yep. Yesterday was not one of my best days. Not one of my worst, but still.

"This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24

I see this everywhere. On keychains, pillows, plaques, picture frames, greeting cards, bumper stickers - you get the picture. I see it so often, that I no longer actually read it. I start to, but then I think, "Oh yeah. I know that one" and then move on. But do I really know it? Do I know it in my heart?

Not really. I don't start each morning thanking God for the day. And, why not? I always thank someone whenever they give me something. Especially, something they didn't have to give me. And God certainly doesn't have to give me a new day if He doesn't want to. Just check the obituary section of the daily newspaper. He doesn't give one to everyone, you know!

So, this is something I really need to work on. I can't tell you how many times I've described my day as "crappy", "frustrating", "not worth a hill of beans" or "can't wait for it to be over". I wonder if it breaks God's heart a little everytime I say that. I know I've given gifts that were ill received. It hurts to know that your time, effort and thoughtfulness go unappreciated. But I'm not just unappreciative of God's thoughtfulness, I actually insult it with my derogatory remarks towards His gift of a new day. That needs to stop. Really.

Chances look pretty good for me that God will wrap up another day, tie it with a sunny-yellow bow and set it outside my door and wait for me to open it first thing in the morning. He's pretty faithful like that. In our relationship, it seems, He's always the giver and I'm always the receiver. Well, tomorrow, that is going to change a bit. I'M going to give! Give thanks, that is. Each day is a gift, but the funny thing about this gift is, even though He gives it, I get to fill it with whatever I want.

I hope I can remember to fill it with much rejoicing. If not, God will remind me somehow. He's pretty faithful like that, too.

Thankfully.

I need a caption for this picture!

Please, write a caption for this pic of my son, Kirby, and post it in "comments". Whoever has the cutest and cleverist caption will receive a $10 gift card to Starbucks!

Tennis, Anyone?

This post was inspired by my good friend, Andrea, who played tennis back in high school and, just recently, provided for me the picture of committing oneself to the game.

There is a Phil Collins song, “Something Happened on the Way to Heaven” that has stuck with me over the years. Phil is singing to his love. He’s made a terrible mistake but wants to make amends. He doesn't want to lose her. In it, he sings, “We've had our problems but I'm on your side”. It’s one of those lines that is unexpectedly profound yet the meaning is so simple. So simple, in fact, that I think most people miss it.

I’m preaching to myself here, by the way.

I think, those of us in marriages, when conflict comes between us, we tend to get caught up in the “His side/Her side” of it. I know I do. I forget that Paul and I are on the same team. We are fighting the same opponent and we have the same goal: a happy, successful marriage. It’s kind of like playing tennis, really.

Yeah, that’s right - tennis. Here’s where insomnia comes in handy. This little gem was handed to me around 4:30 the other morning when I couldn't sleep:

Here, we have a tennis court:

You and your spouse team up on one side - this half of the court represents your marriage. Everything that will try to penetrate the inside court of your marriage: dishonesty, financial difficulties, temptation, infidelity, disrespect, resentment, inattention, ingratitude, etc., take up camp on the other side. Each team member guards his/her side of the court, sometimes alternating front to back. When the enemy lobs a threat over the net, sometimes the husband rushes forward to smack it back, declaring ,“This one’s mine. I’ll make it right”. Sometimes, it’s the wife who returns the fire, shouting, “I’ll handle this one“! And, just as in any successful, well-matched team, the two players never cross each other. They work in unison, united together in one common goal: never let the other side win.

The threats may come hard and fast, but when the team is adequately suited up with the proper equipment - trust, respect, kindness, commitment, loyalty and, above all, God as their captain - those threats are returned with a full swing. It’s difficult, sometimes to remember, when caught up in the day-to-day struggles and our own desires, that we are on the same team.

"Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, "Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand". ~ Matthew 12:25

And, don’t forget, in tennis, as in marriage, when the other side scores zero - that’s LOVE!

Awesome Video!

The story I can't wait to tell my children.

When I was 22, I was terribly upset one evening because some guy (I can't even remember who) had broken my heart. This was, like, the 147th time my heart had been broken (at least it felt that way). I was so tired of dating jerks. I KNEW I had something good to offer and couldn't figure out why no one could see that.

That night, I broke down and cried my eyes out to God. I said I was sick of being my own match-maker and I wanted Him to do it. I literally said, "I done! You do it!" I told God that I knew He had someone picked out just for me and that I felt He was just waiting on ME not the other way around. I knew I had to get mentally and emotionally healthy before God introduced me to my soulmate. Up to this point, I had terrible insecurities and low self-esteem.

I had decided that I was going to take a year off from dating. I would not accept any dates from anyone. I needed a break. I said to God, "I know you will make it clear to me who he is when I meet him". I prayed this because I didn't want to turn down a date and then worry that I had just turned down "the one". That would've been defeating the purpose of my year off.

I also had a list of things I was looking for in a guy and I literally gave God the list. I wanted him to be tall, dark and handsome. I wanted him to have a sense of humor and love animals. I wanted him to have either a rugged "manly" job or rugged hobbies. I wanted him to be the type of guy that was always looking to improve himself in some way, either physically, intellectually, financially or spiritually. I "put my order" in to God that night.

I took the year off and it was WONDERFUL. So freeing! It was such a release to come home and NOT worry if there were messages on my machine or if some guy called. I spent more time with family, friends and myself. I learned how to be independent and my confidence soared! I had so much fun the first year, that I decided to go for year two.

About 4 months into year two, I was at work one morning when I saw two guys walk out of the employee lounge. I couldn't even make out his face but suddenly it came upon me - this overwhelming feeling of "that's him!". I frantically starting hitting the shoulder of the guy next to me saying, "Who's that guy? Who's that guy?" He told me his name and I knew I would be marrying him. I still hadn't even really seen his face. I swear, it was just like in the movies - it was like everything darkened around me and a spotlight shown on him. I like to joke that I even heard music! I knew God would make it clear to me and He did!

After MUCH flirting for a few weeks, we finally had our first date. It was wonderful! The next day, I was at my brother's house and my SIL asked what I had done the night before. I said, "I went on a date with the guy I'm going to marry".

Last Thursday we marked our 10 yr anniversary!

The list I gave to God? He hit every one! Paul is tall, dark and handsome. He has a fabulous sense of humor, loves animals and has "rugged" hobbies (shooting, four-wheeling, flying). He is always trying to improve his mind, always wanting to learn more. Right now, he's out riding his bike to improve his health.

We have our troubles just like any marriage but it's comforting to know that no matter what, we will be together. He may not be God's gift to women but he's definitely God's gift to me! This is my example to people that you can pray specifically and God will answer your prayer. You have to be willing to do your part, too, though - as I had to do.

Everybody say, "Awwwww"

Things I'm struggling w/ this week.

"This week". Ha! That's funny!

1. Laziness - I decided weeks after Kirby was born that I could not take care of a 3 yr old, a newborn baby AND keep my house immaculate. So the house, rightfully so, got the short end of the stick. I let the upstairs, in particular, go. Well, now it's been 9 mos and I still have not dedicated any real amount of time to the intense disarray that is my second level. Sure, I have an excuse - the kids are certainly more important but, the truth of the matter is, I don't WANT to work up there. I have no motivation, no desire to get it taken care of. And not ALL of my time is spent w/ the kids. I am, afterall, finding time to blog on a regular basis. Shouldn't I be cleaning right now?

2. Envy - I have a friend whom I love dearly, but, dang, I really envy her life sometimes. She is just one of those who "seems" to have it all together. I'm happy to say that she trusts me enough to tell me the truth, that this isn't always the case (happy that she trusts me, not happy that she doesn't always have it together. Geesh! What kind of a person do you think I am?). Anyway, I find that I compare my life to hers and that gets me feeling sorry for myself - which leads me to my next confession:

3. Ingratitude - There is not enough room in cyber-space for me to tell you all the ways in which God has blessed my life. But is this what I concentrate on? Is this where I choose to focus my thoughts? No. I'm a walking, talking, living, grown-up spoiled child! What happened to me? I never used to be like this! In fact, I used to have such a bubbly, giddy personality that I have, on more than one occasion, been accused of being drunk even though not a drop of alcohol was in my system. You simply cannot be that happy without be grateful. I think I need to investigate this further. Stay tuned.

4. Gluttony - Or shall we say - oink! oink! oink! I've been taking an appetite suppressant to deal with my inability to control my hands from continuously putting food in my mouth against my will. They are working great! But, even though, I do try to eat normal amounts of food, I am still battling with junk food. Why is putting chocolate in my mouth soooooo much easier than putting veggies in my mouth? I had a bit of a wake-up call last night when I pulled my fresh-from-the-dryer jeans on and ripped out one of the belt-loops. Now there's a great ego boost!

Well, there's more, but neither one of us have all day. I was watching Joyce Meyer awhile back and she was talking about overcoming bad habits. She talked about how if you can't seem to change your feelings about something, you CAN change your behavior. You have to say to yourself, "I will behave my way out of this". I always planned on printing that out and posting it on my refrigerator. Funnily enough, I've never gotten around to it. See #1.

Well, if you'll excuse me now - I need my computer to print something out. Maybe I can use the outside of my fridge to keep me from the inside! Wish me luck! Pray for me!

Jesus 911

Every now and then I catch Nanny 911 or SuperNanny. I don't watch it on a regular basis simply because when I do happen upon it I never note the day/time or channel so, as a result, I never know when to catch it again the following week. You'd think I'd make more of a point of this considering that often times my parenting skills closely resemble those scenes in old west movies where the stagecoach is being dragged through the desert at an alarming speed by teams of half-crazed, runaway horses headed straight for a deadly drop-off.

When I do catch the nanny shows, I notice a trend with the nannies. They like house rules and they like them posted on a wall for everyone to see - a constant reminder of what is expected of everyone. Nice idea, I think.

After one particularly frustrating morning, I had decided that a list of house rules was needed (forgetting, of course, that London & Kirby cannot read but I was not exactly in my "right mind" so I'm cutting myself some slack on that one). I was tired of repeating myself, and for reasons unclear to me, it seems that every time I have to repeat myself my voice gets a little louder. Go figure.

I don't know if this particular morning my husband was frightened or just sympathetic, but either way he, at least, had his wits about him and smartly sent me off on my own for a few hours. I made my way to the Berean bookstore because I was in search of a tiny Jesus statue (which I never found) and a good Christian-based parenting book (found several).

And, as God often does, He put something in my path that I desperately needed. There on one of the store shelves - a list of house rules:

As you can guess, I purchased it. It now hangs on the wall directly in front of my stairway, so that every morning as I descend down the steps to start my day, this is the first thing I see. So I guess, it's just fine that London & Kirby can't read...

as long as I can.

Ode to Counter Clutter

Oh, my counter, counter clutter
You are the bane of my existence.
How you remain in my life,
Despite my persistence.
To clean you up, clear you off.
To put everything away.
To keep you free from debris
Each and every day.
A paper here, a notice there.
Pens, cell phones and mail.
My notebook and “things to do”
And always without fail
There’s the miscellaneous things.
Things seemingly without home
That pile up and multiply
“Stuff” never wants to be alone.
And there you sit, upon my counter
Looking like a smug ol’ bore.
Oh, you may win a few battles
But, you can bet, I’ll win the WAR!
So take your rest, sweet disarray
But take heed to my warning:
Though we both sleep well tonight,
We’ll fight again in the morning.

My Son has a Dirty Mouth

A simple diaper change will illuminate for you the basic difference between boys and girls. But their differences go far beyond the physical. Maybe it's just the case in my home, but I don't remember London putting EVERYTHING in her mouth. Oh, sure, there were the usual things: toys, toes, keys, soap, etc. She even managed to slobber one remote control and one cell phone into electronic obliteration. But Baby Girl wasn't into the icky stuff.

The Boy, however, has no limits. And no standards, for that matter.

I have pulled an assortment of things out of Kirby's mouth. The boy likes variety, that's for sure. There's been the Barbie shoe, London's tiny hair rubberband, goldfish cracker, pieces of paper, pieces of wood (yes, WOOD), Polly Pocket clothing, carpet fuzz and Kleenex tissue (used). But the most disgusting thing, so far, occurred just the other day.

You know that fear that rises up in you when your kids are too quiet? Yeah, THAT fear. Either you're making a call to 911 or you're making a call to the plumber. Either way, it's not good.

Kirby had made his way back behind our family room chair. The chair that backs up against our sliding glass door. In the door track resides the last 2 yrs of dust & dirt and a few cricket corpses. Not a pretty sight but unless you're a baby exploring every nook-n-cranny of the house, you don't see it.

Or if you're a mom with enough on her To Do list already, you choose not to see it.

Anyway, he'd been quiet for a couple of minutes and my ever dependable "Mommy Warning System" went off in my head. It only took me a few seconds to locate the little explorer and pull him out from behind the chair. I could see immediately that he had put something in his mouth by the twinkle in his eye and extensive amount of drool pouring out from his lips.

Kirby is extra protective of the little treasures he considers edible, so it takes more than one attempt to pry open his tiny jaws and finger sweep his slobbery mouth. After the third finger sweep, I found it. Whatever "it" was, I'm not sure. But if it's possible for a furball and a dust bunny to mate, this was the offspring.

All together now - Ewwww!

So I went to www.biblegateway.com in search for a passage that would go along nicely with this story, but oddly enough, the Bible doesn't say much about putting unrecognizable dirt globs in your mouth. A search of the words "dirty" and "mouth" resulted in this find:

Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. ~ Ephesians 4:29 (The Message)

Well, even though Kirby cannot yet talk, he's got problems in the "Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth" part. At this point in the post I would normally write how I should probably expect to pull more disgusting treats out of his mouth in the years to come, but since beginning this writing (I started early this morning. I don't whip these out all at once, ya know) I have pulled two more mysterious-looking globs out of his mouth. And are you surprised to find out they came from two different areas of the house? Niiiice. Apparently, ever since Kirby was born, I've chosen not to see quite a bit of the dirt!

At the going rate, I should expect to pull 2,920 furball-bunny looking things out of his mouth before his 5th birthday. Do good mommies keep these things? Am I supposed to scrapbook a few of these gems? I know some mommies keep their babies first fingernail clippings. Heck, I even know of one mom who saved the small piece of crunchy umbilical cord after it fell off of her baby's belly button.

And, one more time as a group - Ewwwww!

I do have a lock of his hair saved in a Ziploc baggie. Is that good enough? Please, tell me that's good enough. I really don't want to have to develop sentimental feelings for anything else that at one time was "alive".

Well, the reality is, I'm just going to have to accept the fact that Kirby does not seem to have a discerning palette. And the fact that I'm probably not going to get to that door track anytime soon. Life is too short to let a few dust bunnies interrupt playtime with my kids. I may not be all that great with the broom sweep but, thanks to my boy, I am getting pretty darn good with the finger sweep!

Return to Sender

One thing that I try to remember,
but then end up forgetting,
but then remember again,
only to forget again,
but now I remember is:

That my children are not really mine. They are God's children whom He has entrusted me with.

Can you imagine - you're a babysitter looking for a job when your phone rings. There's this man on the other end looking for a dependable person to watch over his children. He needs someone loving and dedicated but also recognizes that this person will make a lot of mistakes. You, the babysitter, think, "Wow. That's odd. He wants me to watch over his children even though he knows that there's a good chance I'm going to screw up but he willingly hands them over to me anyway?"

Hmm, talk about faith!

My dad always said that when you borrow something from someone, you are to return it in better condition than which you borrowed it. You know, to show appreciation. For instance, if you borrow a friend's car, you should return it with a full tank of gas and newly washed.

So how do I return God's children to Him better than I received them? Especially, if I'm going to be making a multitude of mistakes while raising them? The only thing I can think of is to turn them back over right away, before I, working on my own accord, do too much harm.

I think the sooner I let go of the idea that my children belong to me, that I OWN them, the better. They are not mine, they are God's. My job is to guide them through the ups & downs of life but if I don't first direct their steps back to God, then I have made my first serious mistake.

Well, doesn't that look all well & good written like that? Problem is, I'm writing this as Kirby is peacefully sleeping in his crib and London is downstairs eating dinner with Daddy. I've had a pretty easy-going day with no major disasters to clean up after. Everyone has gotten along and at no time did two people simultaneously demand my attention.

All is calm. All is bright.

But what about tomorrow? When Kirby starts the day by fighting me while I'm changing a diaper that is only partially containing a blow-out the size of a small sedan and London is crying from the floor of the kitchen because I gave her the blue sippy cup instead of the red one? The dishes are quickly filling the sink, the trash is begging to be emptied, last week's mail is multiplying on the counter, the phone is ringing for the third time in 10 minutes and with all this noise in the house I cannot hear Joyce Meyer preaching on T.V!

SHUUUUT IIITTT! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO HEAR THE WORD OF GOD?!?!

Oops.

Uh-oh. Those are God's kids I just hollered at. God's kids I just lost my temper with. God's kids I've had enough of 45 minutes into the day. What on earth was God thinking? I often scratch my head at the amazing and questionable choice that God made when He sent these two precious gifts to me. Does He know something I don't?

Maybe I should ask Him - daily - for His insight. No, scratch that - throughout the day. Maybe I should go to Him first and get the lesson plan for myself before I try to teach the kids about following God. Or maybe it's not so much my job to guide them as it is to accompany them. Maybe, they are here as much to teach me as I am them. Perhaps this walk is a walk we take together - hand in hand. Because, truth be known, I won't really ever complete my walk with Christ until I've been called home so why not have some really cute, adorable, kissable company as I go?

As trying as they can be at times, I really do love and appreciate these two precious gifts from God. And you can bet, I have already stamped them, "Return to Sender".

It's just that, instead of sending them back on their own, I'll be making the journey back with them.

Question #2

Why "The Stumbling Christian"?

Okay, I admit that "Stumbling Christian" is actually redundant. Saying that you're a stumbling Christian is stating the obvious...er, um,...obviously. I have to laugh at myself, though, for putting "the" in the title. Like it's just ME.

Actually, it would be pretty cool if it were just me. Because, if I were the ONLY stumbling Christian in the world, I could go on tour and charge people to have a look-see. My opening act could be the world's tallest man or the bearded lady. Maybe even Britney Spears!

I might open the show with tithing waaaay less that 10%. Follow that with being envious of the
new car my neighbor just bought and then talking about that neighbor with another neighbor. I'd round out the show with cheating on my taxes and then close with completely impure thoughts of Matthew Fox from "Lost".

Okay, Josh Holloway.

Okay, both.

Of course, I'd have to change up my act every so often to keep it fresh. Sometimes, I'd pass judgement on the mom in the grocery store with the screaming child or I might lose my patience with the kid at Dairy Queen who's new and messed up my order. Some days, I'd cuss out loud when cut off in traffic or maybe even completely lose my cool with my daughter because JUST ONCE I'd like to go to the bathroom by myself!

Onlookers would pass me by in the exhibition booth, stare with mouths agape and say things like, "Umphf! She's a Christian! She should know better!" and "I expected MORE from her!"

Perfect Christians would come to me daily and quote scripture to me and remind me that if only my faith were stronger I wouldn't stumble at all. I'd hang my head in shame and imagine God up there keeping tally of all of my failings and wonder AGAIN if He really loved me.

Fortunately, for me, I am not the only one. Recognize yourself up there anywhere? All of it's true for me - well, except for cheating on my taxes. I've never really done that. Nor impure thoughts of Matt and Josh.

Okay, well not DAILY, anyway.

I chose "The Stumbling Christian" simply for the sake of honesty. I want to be honest with everyone who comes to read my ramblings. Honest with those who are struggling right along with me. Honest with those who have not yet chosen Christ and mistakenly believe all will be perfect once they do. Honest with those who are ahead of me in their walk with Christ so they remember to look back from time to time and help me along.

But, mostly, I want to be honest with myself and honest before God. Because, what's the point otherwise?

Yes, I will stumble. And, yes, I will fall. Some days, I won't be able to walk at all. But will not walking on keep me from moving forward? Nope.

Those will be the days the Lord carries me.

Question #1

Why a blog?

I enjoy writing - always have. I remember in 1st grade my elementary school had a "Young Authors" contest. Each student in each grade was to submit an original story. I had a story in mind but my mother insisted I use a story I had written in kindergarten about a male squirrel who had babies. Obviously, confused about the dynamics of reproduction at that age, but a cute story nonetheless. My story did not win and I naturally blamed my mother (a pattern to follow for years to come). I did, however, go on to win the following three years with such titles, as "Stories About Judd" and "Ralph, the Talking Hockey Puck". For the life of me, I cannot remember the 3rd book. But I did win, THAT I remember.

My junior high and high school writings mainly consisted of the usual teenage-girl angst. Lots of starry-eyed love poems mixed in with rantings of being misunderstood, topped with a dash of insecure journal entries. Nothing worth sending off to Reader's Digest but good for a chuckle whenever I pull those dusty writings out of their box.

The next two decades barely a word emitted from my pen and I found myself both mourning the loss of my desire to write and accepting that that part of me had played itself out.

Then children came along. And along with children comes the one thing that no parent on this earth can escape:

The perpetual state of "Deer in the Headlights" syndrome.

NOW I have something to write about!

I am blessed to be surrounded by many other wives & moms who are being there, doing that right along with me. What's even more of a blessing, is the willingness of these women to share their daily ups & downs, joys & frustrations and tears & laughter at the mess of it all with me. It is unbelievably cathartic to confess the sins of motherhood to others who understand.

(Okay, so letting your child have chocolate milk with breakfast or putting them to sleep in well-played-in play clothes because you don't want to wake them aren't really biblical sins but, in some circles, sins nonetheless).

But, even more importantly, is the healing that takes place when we open up to one another.

Confess to one another therefore your faults (your slips, your false steps, your offenses, your sins) and pray [also] for one another, that you may be healed and restored [to a spiritual tone of mind and heart]... ~ James 5:16 (Amplified)

When I first learned that we were to confess to each other, I thought it was so that no one would be allowed to "get away with something" with their fellow man. That thinking stems from my childhood belief that God is out to get us. Now, I realize that God is encouraging us to be open with others so that we can be comforted in the knowledge that no one is perfect and understand that we all struggle, so that we reach out to one another with compassion, and ultimately, come together in love.

What every good parent wants for their children, isn't it?

So I'm blogging because my desire to write has returned and I'm making these writings public because I have the need to NOT be alone in my struggles and to be healed on a daily basis.

I have reason to believe that others have that same need as well.