Struggling with Grace: Through the Lens of a Woman

My heart has been in flux these past few months. It's like I stepped through a portal that led to old Angie, and now I am desperate to fight my way out. All these old insecurities and strongholds are sinking their nails into my good reason.  Forty one years, and I am still struggling. 

I can look at the roots. I can remember from the time I was very young--the judgmental eyes, the harsh words, the scrutinizing that seemed a natural lens for a world of girls to see me through--a world shaped by women who allowed such criticisms to be everyday chatter. I think on the whispers of one girl to another about her, and then I'd step away from the conversation wondering what they'd say about me.

From home life, to school life, to college life...to real life... I'd step forward into the net of never fully confident, always hindered by worry and doubt that I was truly accepted, that I hadn't slipped from okay to too much when I allowed my heart to speak.

Whether it be on everyday life things, politics, church, hope, faith, love, war... 

All of it, and all I thought--think--seem to be mines waiting to explode a friend's opinion of me--a person's acceptance of me.

Last night, I watched my seven year old daughter dance. She took her arms fully out from her sides, lifted them up above her head, and arched her back so far I could hardly see her chin. She danced, and smiled and ran across a room filled with little girls she hardly knows. She plunged deep in each moment, learning and dancing, giggling and jumping up and down with excitement. I sat, and smiled, and thought about how my little girl was nothing like me. Yet, she was everything I had ever wished to be at her age.

I wanted to dance. I wanted freedom to express myself so fully that the world was truly my stage and all else were just players that had nothing to do with my performance. Forget the critics. Forget the right or wrong way. Just dance, and live in it fully.

I wanted to care only about the fun, and nothing about the arched eyebrow or the mean word. She's young. And part of me wrestles with the possibility that she might one day be ensnared by the harsh reality that is the world of girls. The world of women. The undeniable gender traits--we are prone to criticize, to scrutinize, to debilitate each other, unlike most men I have ever run into.

So, here I sit.

Heaped with shame, frustration, worry, that once again, every move I make, every word spoken from my lips is being dissected and proven to show this very flawed, very unworthy person that I am. It's those old nails dug deep in my worth, tearing my confidence in shreds.

I often speak of paradigm shifts. How I had a major one when my husband fell away from Christ. My view of the world literally shattered before me in a catastrophic way. Once I caught my breath, and my will to live on, I could only manage to pick up the pieces worth salvaging, examine the pieces that were flawed, and toss them out with the wisdom of something better, something purer. My paradigm was more of a re-creation than a shift.

So, life view--check.

Now, me view--in progress. 

Today, it doesn't seem like progress at all. Today, it seems like a swirling mess. But, I have all these grace-speakers in my life. And, if they knew how much they mean to me, then they would probably feel suffocated by my appreciation. My life-giving friends have lifted my chin, and made me realize that different is out there.

Grace is out there.

I should bathe in the stuff. I wish I didn't need it so much. But, it's really the only release from the trap of my old self-image. 

I know something is different. I realize that I am foolish and selfish in thinking so much is focused on me--regardless of the good or bad.

And, in the knowing, I hope for change. I hope that one day I can say, 

"When I turned forty-something...I stopped caring so much."

One day.

For now, I'll continue to wrestle, to accept the past, and try and break away it's hardened shell. And I'll pray. I'll pray for me, and mostly my daughter, that she walks into womanhood differently. That the wounds so easily inflicted, the looks so easily ensnaring, are nothing that penetrate her strength and her image.

Perfect Parenting

It took many years for me to realize I had my son on this pedestal. That I had just assumed as a parent following all the good advice, godly people, and great examples out there that my son would be molded into the exact image I imagined.

Hoped for.

Expected.

And if I peer in his reflection of me, it shows that I, indeed, had myself as a parent on a pedestal as well.

I remember a long time ago, a friend saying that she felt God telling her to not hold her children so closely because she was afraid of the fall if they were taken away.

I totally get that. Because I am tumbling, tumbling from that high place I had put myself on long ago, as I witness the flaws and humanness of my children.

How dare they? How dare they paint me a hypocrite? It's not fair. My intentions were good.

The further I walk this journey, the more I realize the illusion life has painted around us. It goes to show that we need Jesus more and more...because no matter the wisdom or advice a good person exudes, the ears are flawed, the hearts are wayward, and another's journey can only be carved by the One who made it.

My strive for perfection only knocked me down in the end. All I have is Love and Grace to keep me going...and hopefully, it will be contagious for my children's sake!

Family Spontaneity--Even On A School Night

When I pulled up in the driveway after a school event on Monday night, I'll admit I was a little annoyed that my kids and husband were sitting on the bed of his truck dangerously close to bedtime routine.

But they looked so cozy, with the outdoor heater warming their dangling toes, and their eyes bright with starlight and excitement. They had piled into the truck's bed, procrastinating the responsibility of a school night, all in hopes of seeing a supposed meteor shower that my son learned would occur that night.

It was hard, at first, to not complain. But I couldn't be "that mom" who spoils the fun, especially when the fun spurred from a science lesson at school.

With pillows and blankets, we crammed like sardines (pardon the cliche, but it fits perfectly), and looked up at the glorious pin-prickings above.

There was a moment of pure joy, knowing my family was close, cuddling in that truck bed, none of us wanting to be anywhere else but together side-by-side...
Or rather, arm atop arm, hip crushed in a thigh, elbow in a rib...yeah, the joy-filled moment was fleeting as whining erupted like the expected shower of stars (which we never did see).

Regardless, that small decision of spontaneity will remain a delicate memory for my children, my husband, and me. If I had raised my voice and spoke my irritation immediately, how crushing that moment would have become...how aggravating for my kids...how defining of the typical party-pooper mom that I can be.

Setting aside my agenda to revel in a moment is hardly a natural tendency, but it is one of grace that leads to blessing if I let it. That brings me to my suggested family activity for this TGIF post:

Be spontaneous when least expected!

Feel the rush of abandon alongside your kids as they witness their parents breaking the "rules", every once in a while, in the name of FAMILY FUN!

My Not-So-Perfect Morning

"If you keep on biting and devouring eachother, you will be destroyed by eachother." Galatians 5:15

The Lord knows it is very rare for me to get myself out of bed before the kids and open His good book...so when I do, He is sure to get right to the point.

And as I found this Bible verse, I promised Him, I would do better at talking gently to my children, using my words wisely, showing the ultimate respect to my husband ESPECIALLY in front of my children...I would not allow us to be destroyed by sharp words and negative criticism.....

My crazy kids!

Ahhh, then they all woke up, and the clock was ticking, and the morning school rush swept us all up and got me all flustered. Especially since I have one jokester, one daydreamer, and one stubborn-as-a-mule-not-going-to-do-anything-but-curl-up-into-a-ball-and-hide-under-the-covers!!
My volume gets louder and louder and finally, I shout, "Why do you only listen to me when I raise my voice!?!"

Ugh! If I didn't know better, I would wallow in my defeat, throw in the towel, say, "God, I'm not good enough ever, I quit!".

But I do know better. God has been shaping my mother's heart for over nine years now, and He has constantly whispered, "Grace", and I remember that I am not good enough, I am always going to fall short, but yet, he bestows His Grace on me, and I am His, always!

So, I pay it forward, and give my off-task children a little grace-- I hug and kiss them, pray with them, and drop them off at school with smiles...and they display grace to Mama...they forget the struggle to get out the door, they giggle in the car, they return the hugs and kisses at drop off.

My heart may have undergone nine years of shaping, but in no way is it perfect yet...or will it be. In my Bible study, I am reminded that the definition of "perfect" is to be "complete, finished, goal accomplished". I will continue to allow God's shaping, but I know that only my first glimpse at those Heavenly gates will prove perfection.

So, Monday will come around, and I will try a little harder, equipped with a weekend of prayer, and scoot those kids out the door with a little less strife, and a little more grace. I'll maintain my tongue as best as I can, and will avoid the destruction, equipped with the advice as explained in Galatians 5:16,
 "live by the Spirit." Thank you, God, for that!