My kids aren’t so grown I don’t remember those bleary-eyed yesterdays, the ones where I was knee deep in new babies and new motherhood. I taught music at Mark Twain Elementary, but twin babies in the house meant I’m not too fresh and put together. On most days, it feels like victory just to be vertical.
My best teaching buds Patty, Sue, and Jen were a stage or two ahead of me in parenting, and on more difficult days dedicated mama cheerleaders. They understood what I was going through and gave me grace in my floundering. When apologizes tumbled profusely because I had to back out of our dinner plans, Sue would say,
“Kristen, don’t apologize. Parenting is a lesson in flexibility.”
And when I worried I wasn’t doing everything the parenting experts said I should, Patty would smile and say,
“Forget about the books. You’re doing more than you think you are.”
And when Jen found me crying by the ellison cutter in the library because I felt behind on everything, she just slung an arm around my shoulders and promised me,
“Girl, just get today’s necessities done. And really, you won’t feel this way forever.”
At the kidney shaped table in the 5th grade classroom, they let me spill lunch crumbs and heart crumbs about the wonder and work that was raising babies. They became my sisters in solidarity leading me to the daily finish line.
They got me, or at least the crazy-sleep-deprived-working-mother part of me.
Last week I returned from a blogging conference, the only writery/bloggy conference I ever attend. Because hello? It takes a lot of effort to leave my house, more logistical maneuvering than Eisenhower used to plan D-Day. {And with that reference I sound 85.} Anyway, it’s worth going for more than the educational benefits – of which there are aplenty. But for a relationship-loving gal like me, what really draws me in are the others who attend, too. They understand this writing thing, that I’m doing more than just playing on facebook the whole live long day.
They get me, or at least the key tapping, writerly part of me.
And they cheer me on toward the day’s finish line, whatever that may be.
But then I look in the mirror at whole Kristen – the wife and mother and writer. The girl who loves Jesus and making dessert and playing music and taking pictures. The girl who ignores library book due dates and the dog hair and dust that cover my floor. The girl who tries to get through each day without using too much math or too little grace.
And from my chestnut hair to size 11 feet, no one on this planet fully gets me. Not my husband, my sisters, or my best friend. Nobody.
The same is true for you, too.
And while this can frustrate us, God arranges it this way to free us. He doesn’t force us to the door of His heart. But He guides us there out of love because the only place we can be fully known is in the home of the One who created us in the first place. And where unconditional love lives, freedom lives too. But it’s our choice to walk inside and make ourselves comfortable.
God is the only one who “gets” all of you, who sees you exactly as you are and loves you just the same.
And He enthusiastically cheers you toward your own unique finish line, whatever that may be.
Speaking of friends and writing, the lovely Kat Lee invited me to her place last week to talk writing, blogging, and community. You can read the interview here or listen to my very unpolished self with a side of Okie accent on the podcast here.
Kristen,
This is beautiful…I love the “writerly” part of you as well as the whole you!
Blessings and ((hugs)),
Bev