Write it down, I tell myself and others tell me. So why not? Most days really are worth laughing at, some are worth crying over and all are full of grace. So here I am, writing. I will feebly attempt to share our story one poopy diaper at a time.
But please remember I am not a writer. My grammar is so awful that my husband can’t believe I was ever a teacher. But I am a teacher, every day my job is to teach the 4 small souls entrusted to me; how to love, how to forgive, how to serve, how to laugh, how to repent. Every day is less than what I strive for and every night I have to relinquish the idol of perfection I placed upon that day and pray that tomorrow I will live and walk with more of the grace that is Jesus.
I am not sure where to start. For the past 8 weeks, well maybe since the 4th of July life has been umm, different. Someone said to me recently, “well you haven’t had it easy since your first child,” referring to a gambit of almost and definite medical issues we have had this summer (not to mention some rats in our house).
This was a bizarre and even startling statement to hear. I didn’t really understand it because I have been convicted that there is no such thing as easy or normal. I would be lying if I said I never looked at another family and thought I bet they didn’t get puke, blood and food all over their shirt today. Or I bet they didn’t have to stop 10 minutes into their drive, get 4 fours kids out of the car to go into a Starbucks so someone could pee while keeping one off the floor, the one from crying, one from escaping under the door of stall.
Jesus never promised easy and he didn’t die for normal. He rose from the dead for grace and that is what I cling to, that is why my husband sings hymns with the kids every night, that is why I will change so many diapers a day that my hands are dry and cracked from all the washing. Grace is why I almost cry when a teacher tells me my son shared Jesus with her while she changed his diaper. Grace. Jesus gives it so I can share it. It is what should motivate my every action and my every thought and each response to every phrase that starts with “mama…”.
But I am not perfect and I fail every day all day. And grace cleans up the mess.
And that is where we live. In the mess. Full of grace.
So welcome to our home. You are always welcome here if you are comfortable in the chair that sits in the middle of it all.
