Written on
October 8, 2012 by
Kris in
Blog
Faith is something given, not achieved. It is created by God’s word in Christ. H.A Williams, via Madeline L’Engle, Walking On Water
The week ‘s wrung me out with the constant upset of a house filled with colds and sleepless nights for a chain of days on end. The schedule fell between the cracks as I watched the sun rise each morning, through bleary, heavy eyes and a heart weighted down with a rap sheet of mishaps and forgotten chores. Laundry threatens to swallow me right up, and the dog stinks and needs a good clipping.
In my frustration over a long week where every moment turned opposite of the way I willed it to, I find I’ve stuffed God into a box, determining for myself how He will answer my prayers–or not.
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My knees practically touch my chin as we sit in a rain drop of little chairs. That’s what we call it now, this circle made by their own 4 and 5 year-old hands. When one notices most of us funneled together on one end, she comments “We took the circle and made it better. We made a rain drop.”
We decide then to worship in the rain here every Sunday. And my cup overflows…
I can’t help but laugh when I think of how I prepared for this lesson. How I expected to teach them new discoveries. New words to use in everyday conversations.
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I recently began homeschooling my 7th grade daughter. This is nothing unique. There are many moms who homeschool. But what makes my situation different from that of many other homeschooling moms is that I work full-time, outside of the home, four days a week. Yet, I have chosen to homeschool.
After my daughter finished her elementary school tenure, I became restless in my heart for her. I began to ask the Lord if I could perhaps be a homeschool mom. Call me crazy, but I was willing to add one more thing to my plate in order to do what I felt was best for her.
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My grandmother used to call it “putting on” her face.
Makeup.
Concealer, foundation, blush, shadow, eye liner, mascara, and lip gloss.
I refuse to leave the house without makeup. I’ve even been known to go into surgery wearing a little bit of mascara. I know we’re supposed to go under the knife sans products, but I just feel so naked without lashes and lip gloss.
Do you feel exposed and vulnerable without concealer and color?
Standing in front of the mirror the other morning, I realized I have lots of flaws and imperfections that I try to cover up and hide .
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Pictures never lie.
I don’t know who first said that, but I have plenty of pictures tucked away of early motherhood that fail to reveal the whole truth.
Looking back at photos snapped when my three girls were teeny-tiny, I see picture after picture of me smiling. Happiness etched on my face – like being a mom was just the easiest thing ever. They do not show the depression. They do not show the pressure I felt to get everything right. You cannot see the mommy guilt standing by my side in any of them. But it’s there. My constant companion.
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“En nombre de Padre, de Hijo, y de espiritu santo.”
The waters stirred as the dark haired gentleman followed the pastor into the baptismal pool. The pastor introduced himself and this gentleman to the congregation. Hundreds of eyes rested on these two as they readied to represent Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection. “This man comes to us tonight to be baptized.” Those were the last words I understood.
The pastor then spoke beautiful Spanish as fluid as the water in which he stood. The words were engaging but made no sense to me. I followed as closely as possible listening for chunks of words I understood comparing them to the words I knew and expected at a baptism.
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She spends fifteen minutes on her makeup, adding a bit of eyeshadow here, curling those eyelashes one more time. Her hair just isn’t laying right, as she checks the back for the fifth time with her handheld mirror. Maybe a turtleneck would work better with her hair down, or maybe she should just wear it up and out of the way today. She frets. She frowns. She feels paralyzed in this place of not-pretty-enough.
Across town, another woman is cleaning. Baseboards, windowsills, walls, doorknobs. She sees some spots on the window that she must have missed the day before. She sighs and reaches for the Windex and paper towels.
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With dish in hand he stands in front of the cupboard. In a toddler voice he says, “M and M . . . M and M.”
As the magical bag appears his eyes open wide, and through a smile that covers his face he exclaims, “OH WOW!
My daughter blames me. It’s okay. We blame my Gram for my love of chocolate. I’ve decided it’s a Gram’s job. 🙂
Then Jesus called for the children and said to the disciples, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children.
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