Who I’m Not.

This week has been the worst one in recent memory. I called the police when someone knocked on the door during the day and didn’t answer when I asked who it was. I got totally freaked out that the super creepy guy down the road was trying to stage a home invasion. Imagine my relief when I opened the door and the policemen hit me in the arm with an envelope from UPS. Whoops. Looks like I wasted tax dollars. My bad. I have felt excruciating pain all week to what I chocked up as a pulled muscle from a zumba class, because you know, I’m getting old and am a weakling. When the pain was finally making me want to punch puppies and kittens, I went to the doctor. I have pluerisy in my lung. Didn’t see that one coming. If my darling children miss one more day of school for this menopausal weather they may beat each other to death in a wildly savage rendition of Hunger Games. And then today, my feelings got hurt. My character was called into question by someone who has taken little time or energy to know me and while I know it was just an attack from Satan himself, it hurt. My greatest fault is caring to much what others think of me. I may not be the friend that remembers every birthday or special event, or who goes above and beyond in some Laverne-and-Shirley episode of life, but I am the friend who thinks of you, prays for you and would give you the shirt off my back if I knew you needed it. The season of life I am in right now is just hectic. Moment to moment I am surrounded by three children who simultaneously need me to love them, wipe their butts (well, not all of them need that), feed them something they don’t deem ‘disgusting’, help them with homework, find their favorite toy, kiss their boo-boos. I mean, no sane man would make it out alive. But anyway, I cried. A lot. And to be honest, I haven’t cried like that in a long, long time. It wasn’t so much the situation but rather the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Thankfully, my support system is awesome and didn’t let me stay down for long. Shout out to my homies who keep it real for me everyday and remind me who I am. You know who you. **ahem, nick, anna carol, steve, olivia, jenny, jana and mallory.** Anyway, I have nothing funny, light hearted or articulate to say. Only this poem that came flowing out once Jesus picked me up and dusted me off. Maybe you can relate. Tonight, it’s all I’ve got to give.

A hollow shadow, broken within.

The seeds of sadness have crept their way in.

A faint cry from the girl who once lived carefree

is hushed and pushed down deep inside of me.

I’m not sure the exact moment that quieted me for good

but the ground beneath me fell where I once firmly stood.

A think crack in my vessel slowly growing larger each day.

Until all at once I was empty and had nothing left to say.

Hopeless despair slowly fills up my soul, it’s so hard to even think.

I’m swimming with emotions but I’m beginning to sink. 

I think of times that once made me strong

and before I even know it, I’m whispering a familiar song.

“And I know they’ll be days when this life brings me pain,

but if that’s what it takes to praise you, Jesus bring the rain.”

Jesus, I whisper but a little louder this time.

Oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, precious friend of mine! 

I remember there’s hope for my broken heart.

When I’m persecuted and lied about and unjustly torn apart.

I don’t have to accept inadequacy, worthlessness or defeat.

I can cry out to Jesus on Heaven’s mercy seat!!

His word tells me to be the salt of the Earth

but I can’t do that when I allow lies from Satan to steal my self worth!

Unbelievers think I should be perfect since I follow him

they don’t understand the only one who’s ever been perfect is he who lives within.

The devil uses people, the past and my faults,

to make me believe the “saltiness” has been taken from my salt.

Jesus picked me up today, despite my wounds and broken pot.

He said, “Rise up woman of God and let me tell you what you are NOT!”

You are NOT defeated, and you are not a fake,

You are NOT up for grabs for the devil to take!

You are NOT without a father to lift you up when you fall,

and you are NOT going to give up on the purpose for which you’ve been called!

You are NOT alone and you are NOT through, for you are NOT without the Holy Spirit,

He lives inside of you. 

Thanks, God.  From a perfectly imperfect woman just trying to make it to Heaven.

To all the Tired Momma’s Out There.

She moves with automaticity,

an art form in its own right.

She’ll work all day after a

somewhat sleepless night.

She’s up with the kids,

or just right before.

She wants to have everything perfect

before they rush out the door.

She irons clothes, packs lunches

and writes sweet little notes.

She helps tiny fingers zip up their coats.

She bends down to wipe chocolate

from a chubby little face.

She stoops down to tie a ragged shoe lace.

She will kiss them good-bye and they will be on their way

and she will dive into her jam-packed day.

She knows all to well what this day will hold.

Dishes to wash and laundry to fold.

Then there’s grocery shopping that’s economical

and healthy to eat,

followed by errands to run and a teacher to meet.

She hasn’t even glanced in the mirror today,

and if she did she would be discouraged from

seeing that her hair is getting gray.

Her wrinkles are creeping in and she

feels so very plain,

yet she puts a smile on her face

you won’t here her complain.

Her sighs slip out unintentionally and

surprise her a bit.

She laughs at herself, knowing

she doesn’t have time for a hissy fit.

She momentarily wishes for

a moment’s peace and perhaps even quiet.

But she pushes that feeling down deep

and instead tries to hide it.

The kids will be home soon and

she knows full well,

they will have homework to do,

and a thousand words to spell.

She will help with addition and read

the little ones books,

then she will have baths to give

and dinner to cook.

She’s unappreciated by most and

usually doesn’t mind

but tonight she has emotions

of a different kind.

She’s weary from fulfilling

the needs of others

and she feels guilty for being tired

from just being “mother”.

She wonders if God’s disappointed

because she is feeling this way

and tries to be thankful

for this ordinary day.

She longs for peace and rest

for her tired soul,

she doesn’t have to say it at all,

her Father already knows.

So she waits until her children

are sleeping peacefully in bed,

and she rushes to bow down

before Jesus and be spiritually fed.

The task of raising children

is the greatest calling one can receive

and she can do it with honor and grace,

with heavenly reprieve.

She knows her greatest legacy will be

the children she will raise,

and she will do it with joy in her heart,

a continuous song of praise.

The peace she longs for won’t be found

in a spotless house or the air of quiet.

She can’t wish it or think it,

no money can buy it.

She knows it is found by resting

in God’s Holy Spirit.

His peace is all around when

she is quiet enough to hear it.

The peace she is looking for is found

when she holds her sweet little ones,

when she is “clothed with strength and dignity

and she can laugh at the days to come”.

She rises up in prayer

in her whole armor of God.

no need to fake everything is all right

or put on a fancy facade.

God’s peace can be found amidst sticky floors

and screaming kids running in the house, down the hall

His peace IS the calm in the midst of it all.

So, she smiles to herself and thanks God for the reminder.

No matter how low she seems to get, he always seem to find her.