i'm not alright.

I’m raising the white flag here, folks. I’m going to just put all my thoughts out there and I’m not even gonna try to give you a perfectly packaged little lesson out of it. I’m gonna do what I’ve been harping on doing for months now while simultaneously not doing myself.

I’m going to be honest.

It occurred to me as I sat in church Sunday morning, unable to even pay attention from the second row due to the overwhelming flood of emotion that caused me to cry buckets of tears in front of God and everybody, that I’ve entered this incredibly vicious cycle of loneliness. The worst part – the part that hit me like a ton of bricks and hurt worse than a paper cut on your eyeball (you're welcome for that imagery) – is that I realized it’s nobody’s fault but my own.

Being married to a minister is hard.

Ok, let me clarify. Being a minister’s wife is hard. (Being married to Brian isn’t so bad…he’s easy on the eyes.)

I write these obscenely long statuses (statii?) about how irritating it is that moms will play off their parenting skills as if they are the Cinderella of motherhood. And you know what? I’m pretty good about being wittily honest about my own parenting skills or my kids’ behavior. But past parenting – down to the nitty gritty of who I am? A social media façade. All of it.

I’m an actor, ladies and gentlemen. Maybe not the world’s greatest but darn good enough to carry it over into my real life.

Enter LL stage right. Dressed in outfit she doesn’t particularly care for but is popular among locals. Smiles long enough to get to pew as onlookers take note of said smile. Makes witty comment to neighbor laced with just enough sarcasm to emphasize humor without being a jerk. Waves at acquaintances. Sings songs with forged fervor. Rinse and repeat.

Sundays/Wednesdays (I single these two days out because they are when I see the most people) have become a song and dance of me pretending like life is just glorious but inwardly longing for genuine companionship with anyone who is willing to return the favor.

My best friend, Lindsay, is my best friend because she knows me. She knows all the worst parts about me and still loves me and vice versa. So it’s not that I don’t realize that there are people out there who are willing to look past the flaws of another and invite them in to share life together. I totally get that. I have that.

Somewhere along the line, though, I stopped letting it happen. And the fact that she's over 700 miles away doesn't help me on the whole "needing to socialize" thing...

I can’t remember the last time I’ve shown anyone but my parents and my husband the real me. Don’t get me wrong, I like the real me. I’m not saying I’m so terrible that I don’t want anyone to know it. A lot of what I portray is exactly who I am: witty, sarcastic, outgoing, fun loving, etc. But I’ve built a wall just high enough to make sure no one can see the hurts and heartaches and flaws.

I stubbed my toe this morning on our dog’s crate and I said a curse word. Now, hear me out. That doesn’t negate my salvation or tarnish my reputation by any means, I get that. But in my mind, I seem to think that every other female on the potential friends list would absolutely be horrified at my choice of words because of who I am.

THIS is the kind of woman we trust to help lead our students?

Stupid, I know. It’s just a word. You might be laughing at how petty that seems, but these type scenarios have turned from petty, irrational, fleeting worries to gripping, overwhelming fears.

Sunday morning before going to church, I lost my temper and yelled at both my kids. They’re 2 and 8 months old. And yes, I’m crying as I write this because of how much I regret my outburst. That’s postpartum depression for you.

Oh yeah. PPD. There’s that… a monster in and of itself that I have only now just admitted to being held captive by. I’ve been in denial about it for so long that I haven’t even shared any of it with my own husband for months. (Fear not, I'm working through it, but this is the first time I've been vulnerable enough to admit it publicly.)

These are the things that make me feel like I’m too much of a mess for a friend. Or to be a friend.

These are the thoughts that the enemy uses to cripple me and keep me from growing in accountability with others. These are the ways he allows me to suffer by not truly being a part of community.

There’s a very dear student who often texts me with advice because she seems to think I have my life together. I do my best to guide her in the best way possible (scripturally). I sometimes find myself getting so incredibly frustrated with her inability to show the world who she really is and not always try to be so perfect and held together. I tell her all the time to let Jesus handle the mess.

Pot, meet kettle.

I know she reads my blog. So this is my attempt to apologize for my own hypocrisy and promise her to be the best example of my own advice. Love you, kid. “S’much.” :)

So here I am: white flag waving high in the air. I’m a mess. I’m broken.

I’m lonely.

...But 1 Peter 5:7 says to “cast all your cares upon Him for He cares for you”. So, I’m not hiding my struggles any longer because something tells me, He isn’t the only one.

The cycle ends here. Community starts now.

on the brink

Every day. The same things.

Wake up. Get dressed. Wake kids up. Pat myself on the back for being on schedule. Realize I forgot to fix bottles. Fix bottles. Finish getting dressed. Notice I'm no longer on schedule. Speed up the getting ready process. Rogue diaper incident. Clean mess. Look for keys. Refill milk for demanding toddler in high chair. Continue looking for keys. Panic. Blame husband for missing keys. Pick up crying baby. Find keys. Contemplate apologizing to husband. Change outfit because of spit up incident. Rush out of the door. 

Cue eight hours of blurred teaching, directions, hyperactive students, etc.

Go home. Survive until bedtime. Crash.

Rinse and repeat.

Don't read this wrong, people. My life looks a lot like every one else's. I'm no special snowflake. And I don't dislike life right now. But it's such a blur. Most days I have to sit back and contemplate on whether I did anything of significance.

Significance. That's been a recurrent theme for me lately.

What does that look like? Who decides what's important and what isn't? 

I don't know. I mean, I do know the good ol' Christian answers and what not. But even at 27 years old, I still wonder if maybe I'm missing out on something. Back in college I was certain that by now I would know myself completely and be self-assured and confident and successful. To some degree, I am. But there's still that lingering question mark of something more.

The best part in all of this questioning though, is that I've been so convinced that God has been speaking to me in all of this. It's almost like He's telling me, "hey! I've got something bigger...something better. It's yours for the taking." 

Hear me out. I'm not going all TD Jakes on you and expecting material blessings. 

Nope. He's really been speaking to my heart about sanctification for the sake of His glory. Can I be real here? Of course I can. It's my blog. 

For a long time in my walk with Christ, I've been so lazy. I'm married to a student pastor and I often piggyback off of his title. By that I mean, I tend to neglect my responsibilities as a believer because I'm "so involved" with Brian's ministry that I must have everything together well enough as is, right? Wrong. Recently I was really convicted about this. I realized that I DO have a lot of influence on Brian's ministry. My relationship and growth in Christ is pivotal to my marriage and the health of my marriage is absolutely pivotal to Brian's ministry. And Brian's ministry is pivotal to the salvation and growth of a multitude of students. All of this is a circular motion that should point right back to Jesus Christ. So. I've chewed on that for a while and have been really working on being a little less lazy and a lot more hungry for God. I'm not all there yet. But I'm getting better.

In the midst of all this, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Christ has been putting this idea of significance in my heart. I know He wants to work on me and break my unwilling and lazy spirit so that He can use me to bring Him glory. 

He's putting dreams in my heart and it's literally the most beautiful feeling I've ever felt. When He speaks, it's beautiful. It's so refreshing and reassuring and humbling to know that Jesus still speaks. To ME. 

So right now I may feel like I'm in a rut of the same things each day. The same messes, the same chaos, the same routines...for now. 

But I'm holding on to the idea of significance and sanctification. I'm letting Him break and mold and chip and chisel. Because I know He's putting together something wonderful. He's preparing something currently unfathomable. And it's all for Him. And these dreams are the only ones I want to chase. They're the only ones with any significance.

More of You. Less of me.

"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen."                 Ephesians 4:29

sanity and sanctity

I'm sitting on my bed at 9:30 PM on this Thursday night eating a cold slice of pizza and drinking Mountain Dew straight from the 2-liter bottle because, friends, it's been that kind of day.

Kids, man. Kids.

Yesterday I went to go get my hair did.

....Yes. I color my hair. Because it's entirely traumatizing to be a 27 year-young woman and have mounds of gray hair. I digress.

As I was letting the chemicals soak into my skull with their unknown lasting effects, I was talking to my hair magician, Deidre, about being a mom. It had been a tough morning and I pretty much just started gushing about my frustrations with my children and myself. And I admit it. I said it. I said what very few mothers want to say:

"Being a mother is NOT the most beautiful job in the world and most days, it's not the best. Anyone who says differently is a liar or blinded by whatever drugs they're taking."

Like I said, y'all. It had been a tough morning.

I've been thinking about the statements I've made and at first, I felt a little guilty for feeling the way I do. But as the day has progressed (read: as more caffeine has been consumed), I realize there's absolutely nothing wrong with having those sentiments.

Before I indulge further, let me tell you: My boys are the absolute greatest gift I've ever been given and are my greatest accomplishment to date. If I had to, I would go head-to-head with the vilest offenders on earth if it meant keeping them safe. And I would dominate them. Because a mother's love, y'all, is way beyond comprehension. And I wouldn't trade them for the greatest riches on earth. They're irreplaceable (like Beyonce - to the left, to the left).

BUT MAN CAN THEY DRIVE YOU CRAZY.

Some days I don't even get five minutes to myself to mindlessly watch tv. I haven't gone to the bathroom or taken a shower in our house with the door closed in two years. I can't remember the last time I didn't either have to share a meal or eat it cold.

And sometimes I log onto social media and I see Perfect Prissy Pants Mama waxing poetic about how wonderful her sweet little smocked-outfit-wearing babies are as she uploads pictures of her perfectly kept house on her way to vacation number 4 of the summer and I just wanna punch her.

That lady is not the picture of average motherhood. She isn't. And I hope her kid smears grape jelly on her couch.

Here's the truth, well, what I've learned, about motherhood:

• Some days you cry more than your kids.
• Sometimes you lose your temper and raise your voice louder than you should.
• Finishing a cup of coffee before it gets cold is a luxury and a rare happening.
• The only time you get to yourself is going to the grocery store and even then, you're rushing to get out as fast as you can because you know your husband is going to give your kid an entire giant oatmeal creme pie if you don't get home quick enough to stop him.
• Every night, you'll find some way you messed up and kick yourself in the proverbial butt because of it.
• There's always going to be a mess...somewhere. If you can't see one, you aren't looking in the right places (check behind the couch).
• You'll wonder where you've gone and when parenting became your only source of identity
• You desperately hope that somewhere beyond the spit up stains on your shirt and the fact that you couldn't find time long enough to shower again that your husband still finds you pretty(ish).
• You absolutely cannot do this job alone.

So, yeah. I think Perfect Prissy Pants Mama and her Oh-So-Smart-Above-Average Angel are obnoxious. But there's a heart of the matter that I've got to get to here: the fault lies with me. If I wasn't falling victim to that ever so tempting game of comparisons, I could look at her posts and say "good for her!" and move on with my life. But instead, it leaves me wondering where in the world I went wrong.

I just need to realize I haven't.

I need to remember that for the Christian, parenting is absolutely a sanctifying process. And sanctification means addressing issues that keep me from being pure and holy. And trust me -- I've seen them: my temper, my covetousness, my selfishness...I could go on (and on and on and on and on)...

 For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,  that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being,  so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth,  and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Ephesians 3: 14-19

And there you have it. That's the passage that has been washing over me the last few days...mostly when I feel overwhelmed in this day-to-day mama stuff. 

God is so sneaky, you know? I mean, I can be in the middle of a me-tantrum and BAM here comes those words again. 

Sanctification. Thank GOD for it. Maybe I've got a lot to fix in my life but I am so grateful that He loves me enough TO fix me. I don't like the mirror that motherhood holds up to my face but I love that HE loves me enough to not leave me where I am. Because as I learned over a quarter of century ago in my preschool church choir...

He's still working on me to make me what I ought to be...

I may come out of this journey a few pounds heavier if I keep the Mountain Dew thing up, though.

...But I refuse to come out of it with any extra gray hair. ;)