Last Sunday {Palm Sunday} was not a good day. By nine am, I was crying on my back porch shouting curse words at my dog trying to get the dog out of the pouring rain. Before church, of course. Nothing like piling on the sin before I put on a happy face. At five pm, I was hiding under the covers in my bedroom ordering pizza for the littles on my iPhone.

Breathing slow through tears.

I am mystified at my inability to cope. I know the answers. I write them on here all the time.

I have an abundant life, filled with blessings. I lack for nothing.

What is wrong with me? 

I am learning {slowly} that there is a happy, healthy balance between a teary mess under the covers and perfect parenting.

Learning to have grace for myself … without giving up.

I found myself studying the photo of chaos my kitchen that I posted the other day. And this too, tells the story of my need.

So much of the clutter draws a clear picture of what I desire for my children, my home …

Natural cleaning products for a chemical free home. Natural baby products for chemical free littles. All natural jelly, for a chemical free diet. Tools, for decorating, for making my home a sanctuary, a place of peace. And of course, Pinterest worthy, frugal projects that provide beauty, form and function {the spray paint}.

And the rest of the casual detritus is a snapshot of my reality …

McDonald’s milk container from the drive through. Miracle Gro for my black thumb. Chaos …. with beautifully decorated walls. Dirty dishes strewn across the counter, and a haphazard pair of pants cradling the hammer. All natural jelly slowly going to waste because I didn’t put it away after lunch. A garage/craft room {not technically in the photo} FULL of half-finished, Instagram {filtered} worthy, semi-frugal DIY projects that in theory will provide beauty, form and function. {The chalk paint is earmarked for coffee-canisters-turned-herb-pots that we can scribble on} … not painted yet, FYI.

And always … evidence of blessings:

Gifts from family. The treasures of my children and their lively imagination. A plaster paw print of Charlie Dog, our sweet lab that loved our babies well.

Proof that life continues – the grief, the grace, the joy.

And in between perfect parenting and hiding out, between McDonald’s milk and Burt’s Bees, there is a place I can live well.

And when days don’t go as planned, answers don’t come from giving up, but from giving  {and receiving} grace.

From crawling out from under the covers, eating junk food and choosing to read books to my babes instead of selling them to strangers. From hugs and kind words even when rooms aren’t clean, five year olds aren’t obedient, and screaming two year olds are super glued to wobbly legs.

From knowing that our moments don’t turn on organic milk, homeschooling, and chemical free room spray, but in the heart and hands of Him of who serves us, who loves us, who saves us. Wholly undeserved.

And those moments are how I teach my littles to love Him back.

From a Savior who covers my own selfish sins in the blood of the cross and the echoes of His empty tomb.

So, Lord-willing, I’ll keep learning … my choices bleed the Word for my wee babes.

~M.

Two caveats:

{One} Our community group was discussing a church where congregants would sometimes use Sunday morning as an opportunity to publicly confess their sin in the church aisles – for accountability, for forgiveness. I think we were all sort intrigued by the idea …. and secretly terrified. Point is, sometimes this blog is my church aisle. Just sayin. 

{Two} It probably sounds like I need therapy. I might. But for now, writing this down, processing my emotions on virtual paper … this is my therapy. Just wanted to let you know I’m aware I sound totally insane all most of the time. And I am better now … for the moment, anyway.