14 March, 2012


Sometimes I get tired.
Sometimes I don't want to focus or be organized or do what I need.
I start wishing for magical beings that would clean the house, make the food, wash the dishes, manage the laundry (wash, dry, fold and put away!) and make gorgeous new slipcovers for the throw pillows.
I want a garden where I can be lazy for just one hour.
Instead of resting, I fret.
Instead of putting my feet one step at a time, I get lost in the endless circle of tasks.
Instead of celebrating my children and enjoying them I stress about a less-than-perfect house.
(And I sigh over gorgeous pillows in other people's houses, then don't take time to create my own.)
It's not as if I don't need to take breaks.
I'm not saying I should always be perfect.
What I am saying is that I have to be careful whose standard I am living by.
Who am I trying to please?
I am thankful for my husband, who lets me vent, who redirects me, who gently loves me.
I am thankful for my little girls and all the opportunities I have to not just stop at "good" parenting, but to go above that into godly parenting.
I am thankful that Ava wants to know about God.
I am thankful for God, and His grace, and the room He gives us to not be perfect.
I am thankful for much, and that replaces the worries of little.

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