The day started with such promise.
It was a Saturday with no absolutely no agenda.
Everyone slept in.
I had quiet time before everyone was up.
We made a batch of banana bread for breakfast.
I took this picture of the 3 of them, all wanting to help me, sharing one chair, and watching the batter turn to dough.
It might be one of my most favorite pictures of them. Ever.
They fill my heart with such joy.
I got teary looking at them all together like that.
Sometimes life looks so perfect in a picture.
And then, later on in the day, I sat on the couch, saying to Aaron through more tears, "I really am a good Mom. Really. I am."
Because sometimes we just have one of those days where we feel like the worst Mom. Or friend. Wife. Daughter. Boss. Sibling. Neighbor. Whoever.
There was so much goodness in the day.
The weather was gorgeous.
I got lots of yard work done.
William and Lilly helped me.
We made iced tea and popsicles.
I set up the slip and slide for the kids.
Aaron painted the long wall along our driveway and started making the trellises for our blackberry bushes. James got to help paint.
We were all together and working and playing and we should have been so happy.
And yet, it seemed like someone was unhappy at every turn.
Within 5 minutes of the slip and slide going up, William was freezing, James hurt his leg and Lilly made her brothers mad by getting mud on it.
I was interrupted over and over by someone wanting something.
I wanted to take a shower--5 minutes to myself after hours of working in the garden.
As soon as I started, William came into the bathroom.
"I just have to go poo, Mom."
Because that means I have to get out of the shower and wipe his bottom.
And it smells like poop when I am taking a shower.
I hate that.
Most of the time it wouldn't bother me that much. It's par for the course. It's my job.
But sometimes, I just get sick of it.
And I really said to myself, "I am just so sick of all of this."
I hope I am not the only one who's ever said that.
But I don't think I am.
Even about her own kids.
I've been thinking a lot about being perfect.
It's not possible.
Did you know that?
I'm being shown that reality more clearly each and every day.
It is not an easy revelation to accept.
I like to be good, OK the best, at everything I do.
But there are circumstances that are beyond my control.
And trying to be perfect never makes anyone happy.
It's being real that matters.
It's being real enough to say, "I'm sorry. I messed up,"
To your kids, your friend, your spouse, your sibling, Whoever.
It's trying again. And again. And again.
It's knowing that God is in control and I am not, and resting in that tremendous peace.
He is perfect.
We are forgiven.
For that I am so grateful.
Because I am so far from perfect.
And so is everyone else. It helps to remember that.
So we can show grace to one another.
It reminds me of this verse--one of the first ones I taught to my kids.
"Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ's sake, forgave you." Ephesians 4:32
Wishing you a happy Monday--filled with kindness and tenderhearted love toward your fellow man.
Even when your fellow man is driving you crazy.