Psalm 23: The Moms Version

Lord be my guide. My priorities, needs and wants are not first in my life.
Help me find the quiet time each day, so that I may be restored and refreshed.
Lead me through my day, so that I may live a God- paced life.

Tho life as a mom is hard.
Tho I may feel like I am in this all alone.
I will not fear, be weary, nor grow tired.
For you are my provider, my strength, and my rock.
This comforts me.
Tho I may not be well with all of my circumstances, I am well within my soul.
You have prepared this day and my future before me.
You have given me all that I need to live the way you want me to.

As a mom and wife you have given me more than enough!
I am able to give back to you, my husband, my children, and still have enough for me.
Thank you Jesus for your love and grace that is given to me each day of my life.
I will abide in you simply and purely forever.

Until next time…

He Called Me Mom

Laying in my unmade bed covered in last weeks laundry, my eyes became extremely heavy as though there were weights hanging from my eyelids. I had not been sleeping well since my first child was born 11 months prior.

Realizing that I had not yet prepared dinner, given him a bath nor created a shopping list for tomorrow’s early morning shopping trip I just wanted to crawl underneath my covers and hibernate until his 18th birthday. I began to hear noises coming from his room. “Well so much for hibernation,” I thought as I forced myself out of bed to return to my never ending mommy duties. “Okay a few more hours then I will get some sleep,” I declared as an attempt to motivate myself as I slowly dragged my feet down the hall.

When I arrived at his room I saw him playing with his stuffed Winnie the Pooh Bear, that he stopped as soon as he heard me.

When he looked up at me he was grinning from ear to ear and much to my surprise he opened his mouth and exclaimed, “MOM.”

My heart fluttered, a tear of joy ran down my cheek as I scooped him up not wanting to never let him go. I remember the smell of apple juice and baby powder as I lingered in his room lavishing him with hugs, kisses and telling him over and over again how happy I was to have him call me mom for the first time.

As I carried him from the room there was a bounce in my step. “He called me Mom!” I shouted.

Motherhood is completely and utterly exhausting, it has been many years since that day and I am still tired and I am still happy to have him call me Mom!

Until next time…

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Joy in the Journey

This God – His way is perfect; the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in Him.

2 Samuel 22:31

I am a recovering perfectionist. I tend to lean toward the side of things of neat and tidy. I take pleasure at the sight of a straightened up and organized room. As the boys were little, I remember waking each morning and fixing the couch cushions, throw pillows, and blankets that were in disarray from the night before. I recall thinking about how I wish they would pick up after themselves or that I wish I had a firm couch that did not have all the slouchy cushions that needed to be adjusted all-the-time.

I am not exactly sure where this need to always look good came from; but I have a couple ideas. My mother cleaned the entire house daily, at times, she would even vacuum twice a day. Our home was far from perfect. A run down one room farmhouse with a bathroom, inside porch, and dilapidated upstairs. I suppose, keeping it clean made it a less miserable place to be in all day. In addition, I recall my father constantly yelling at me to keep my toys in their places and not have them thrown about the living room/ kitchen area, I can understand now this was due to the lack of space we had.

Over the years, I have let some of this perfection go. I do at times find myself adjusting the firm couch cushions, throw pillows, and blankets. As I do, I am reminded of all of the times I did this when the kids were little… how frustrated I was with the task. If I try hard enough, I can switch that memory to how I got to clean up in the morning after an evening of snuggles and watching movies with my children before we went to bed or how we read stories under a blanket fort. Rather it being a terrible memory of the constant battles with a change of perspective I can lavish in the time we once shared together. I guess it is all about taking joy in the journey.

Are you a perfectionist? Where did it come from? Please share in the comments below.

Until next time …

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