Today was a day I just wanted to be done already. A day when the hollering and the bickering and the time outs and talking back and tantrums made my head pound. A day that left me torn between burying my head in a pillow to sob or to scream.
For years now (yes, I wrote years), these kind of days make me want to run. I don’t mean exercise either, though I’m sure it would do me good. I mean that I want to escape the little people I’m responsible for raising and pretend I’m just a single gal without a care in the world. I want it to go away. I find myself desperate for relief from the monumental task at hand. That sounds so harsh, when I type it out, but it’s the truth. The hard, honest truth inside my dark heart.
In blog world, I’m grateful for encouraging voices, urging me to be a better mother and wife and person. I hope that I am that voice to others, too.
But sometimes, days like today, especially, I feel like the ugly duckling on a lake full of swans. Like I’m the only one foundering around, gasping for air, drowning in too many really ugly icky bad days.
My heart is to encourage, and I believe so many of the mommy/faith/parenting blogs that I read have a similar goal. Every now and then, though, I get a little concerned that in the happy encouraging, we lose the real. We lose authentic. We miss the beautiful, messy picture of grace and redemption and rescue for every one of us.Our posts, our blogs, and our outward lives paint a picture of near perfection, but perfection is a lie.
Today was a bad day. And I want you to know it.
Not to get you down or discouraged.
Not to make you feel mopey like I may feel at this moment.
But for you to have authentic me.
For you to know that you’re not alone when you have a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. That no matter what the outward appearance, inside, we are all fallen, human, broken and desperate for grace.
Today, I’m grateful for that grace and I know there is hope, even on my worst mommy days.
I know that tomorrow is a new day and that His mercies are new every morning.
Our imperfect selves cling tight to that promise, Lord. And to the promise that You aren’t done with us yet.
by grace alone… lauren
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