At some point in my younger life, I decided not to have any kids after I turned 30. But then I was 31 when I had Princess, so that whole Plan B thing? I have a copyright on it.
I'm always telling my kids I'm old, and they're finally starting to believe it.
This afternoon I said I needed a break because I'm an old lady. Little Man (who's inheriting everything in my will) said, "You're not old, Mommy." Then Princess piped up, "Yeah, you're not an old lady. You're just an old mommy!"
Such a funny little thing, that one.
But then sometimes I do envy young moms with their whole lives and most of their mistakes ahead of them. I'm not over the hill or anything, but I have a lot of decisions behind me at this point.
So I fight jealousy. We live far from family so the Preacher can finish his degree, and I'm jealous of people with their families next door. We're 3/4 of the way through our homeschool year, and I'm jealous of parents with kids in public school. I'm jealous of the girl with cute shoes at the store, the blogger with the paid-off mortgage, and anyone with anything at all.
I've been petty, shallow, and ungrateful. (It's impossible to envy and be grateful at the same time.)
So I'm fighting a battle for my heart here at Lent, and I stand my ground with this:
I am enough.
I have enough.
I've been given more than I could ever deserve.
And those people who seem to have it all together, the ones who ignite my inner green monster? Well, they struggle to remember they're enough, too.
They fight to be grateful for what they have.
They know they've received more than they ever deserved.
They're a lot like me.
As it turns out, perfection is the end of the rainbow. When we finally get close enough to touch it, we see it was an illusion all along.
It's when we get through that illusion and love people the way they are - smudged faces and dirty fingernails and all - that the battle turns. It's the gift we give in friendship. And if we're lucky, we receive it, too.
We push aside envy and choose to love,
and grace bursts through the weeds and takes over.
And grace wins, every time.
Betting on grace,