If I accidentally stumble upon another blog of a homeschooling mother of eight, I am going to crawl into a hole…
I am going to crawl into a hole and start muttering, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” Over and over and over again, whilst sucking my thumb and twirling my hair.
No offense to you homeschooling moms. No offense to you mothers of eight or more. No offense even to you, homeschooling mother of eight who blogs. Bless your hearts. You are extraordinary.
Bless your hearts, you bloggers with your recipes for organic homemade smoothies with ingredients I’ve never heard of, and your free printables of “25 Easter crafts to make with your toddlers.” I know you mean to encourage. I know you mean to share valuable information that can help us be better mothers. I know it. Deep down I know it.
It is not your fault that you make me want to crawl into a hole. It really isn’t. It is not your fault that I am still sitting over here trying to figure out how you even have time to take a potty break from all the laundry, grocery shopping, and meal preparation that must go along with rearing eight children; much less have a spare minute to take gorgeous pictures of all the crafts and organic goodness taking place in your home at any given point in time. But then write about it in step-by-step detail on your beautiful blog? What am I doing wrong? I don’t have the foggiest idea how to even start to get to your level…
I have two children. One under the care of the public school system for 35 hours per week. One in private preschool for 13 hours per week. I am having a red-letter week if we have clean underwear to put on every day and don’t run out of bread for school lunches at least once during a two-week span. I wish I was exaggerating.
Here’s a picture of my desk right now. Old Sara would not have been able to sleep at night until there were at a minimum: healthy straight little piles. For new Sara, this actually looks tons better than it has for the last couple of weeks, because you can actually see some of the desk surface underneath.
Am I proud of this? No. Do I think that if you are “savoring” properly, your desk should look like this too? No. Understand I am not passing judgment either way.
But if you are ordinary like me, and this is more your reality, feel at home here.
Oh, I fear, FEAR, that in some way my blog may at some point make someone feel “not ______ enough.” You fill in the blank: not holy enough, not spiritual enough, not creative enough, not Bible-knowing enough, not patient enough, etc, etc. I fear that somehow, someway, someone might read something and walk away feeling NOT ENOUGH. I fear that if I write about my successes, successes I think you too could achieve, you will not understand that the failings are far more frequent. You will not understand that I truly believe that, “If I can do this, if I can, I know you can do this too. Because I am SO ordinary.”
You are enough. You are enough for Jesus. Right now, you are enough. He died for you, for me, in our ugliest, most unworthy states: in our sins.
That said, I do want us all to strive together to be better, to be more, to be closer to Jesus and to be more like Him with each passing day. I don’t want to be satisfied, to be complacent. There is work to be done.
So come to me, all you ordinary. All you huddled masses yearning to break free of the “perfect Facebook status” and “perfect parent” status. All you who have had a New Years’ resolution for the past four years to learn to make smoothies. All you who are completely befuddled by extreme couponing. All you who more often than not consider Chick-Fil-A waffle fries an acceptable vegetable serving, at least for this night. Next week we’ll do better.
All you who sometimes fall asleep in prayer. All you who have had a New Years’ resolution for the past four years to read the Bible all the way through, and fall apart by February. All you who have a red-letter day when you only raise your voice to your children once.
And if it ever happens, if you ever come to this place, or any place on the web for that matter, and feel overwhelmed, feel less than worthy – shut it down immediately. Shut it down. Unplug, get up and move.
If you are looking at this blog and you haven’t spent 5 minutes today in the arms of Your Creator, just you and Him: shut it down. If you are reading my ramblings and you haven’t spent 5 minutes looking into the eyes of your spouse and listening, really listening to how their day went: shut it down.
But I hope you’ll hang with me. I hope we can figure out this calling together – this calling to be in but not of. This calling to be holy, as He is holy. This calling to take up our crosses.
God knows, with whatever days I have left, I need your help…
And now this calls: