Most days it feels as though I am floundering my way though life.
I am a mother of two strong willed children. Brayden and I are in a constant battle over talking back to his father and I. Gage is extremely social, so much so that sometimes he's disruptive at school.
I am the wife to a man who I don't always have patience for. I expect too much out of Mike a lot of the time and when he doesn't live up to those expectations I get frustrated with him.
My clean laundry is unfolded and in a mountain in the middle of my living room floor, where it has been for three days now.
I haven't actually cooked a meal for dinner since Friday.
I start a million projects at a time and take my sweet time finishing them when I really should be focused on other things. (case in point my Project Life album and the new quilt I'm sewing)
I'm part of a leadership team in MOPS and more often than not I feel like the weakest link in the chain, as in perhaps my faith isn't strong enough to be there, or my self assurance is lacking in the extreme and maybe I'm not the best person to be in the position that I'm in.
I've also alienated so many friends as a result of my depression and anxiety that I'm leery of making any new ones for fear that they too will leave.
And I've all but abandoned this blog and any friends I've made through it.
A lot of the time I feel like a girl who is still struggling to find her place in the sun.
I admit that I coveted the picture perfect family, with two kids who were always respectful and mild mannered. I wanted the neat and tidy house and to prance around like Donna Reed in a skirt and heels with an apron around my waist cooking three course meals for my doting husband. I wanted the popular blog who a million people subscribe to, all because they thought that the things I have to say have some sort of merit. And I wanted the life long girlfriends that I can laugh and cry with fifty years from now.
I've had a pretty nasty habit of collecting earthly treasures and comparisons of the people and things around me.
But let's be real for a minute here. Say I had all of that stuff. Say that my life was picture perfect. What would it truly get me? Happiness? Contentment? Fulfillment?
The answer is nothing. It would get me absolutely nothing. I can't take any of it with me when I die. And holding on to the wish of having it all has prevented me from seeing what is truly important.
I'm striving to be the absolute best mother that I can be. We have our hills to climb, but God loves me anyways.
I'm trying so hard to be the wife that I was designed to be for my husband. It's a work in progress, but God has never left my side.
My house is messy and I start projects without finishing them. But God still wants to come inside.
I'm self deprecating, but with God at my side I'm (albeit slowly) learning that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Every single day is a battle. And every single day that I wake up I am choosing to put my trust in the Lord. Because really, it's the heavenly treasures that I want: the love, ultimate acceptance, and rest that I find in Him.
About a month ago I got this tattoo (Psalm 143:8) on my left forearm because I needed the reminder that with every morning I get a new chance. I get the opportunity to roll out of bed in the morning and start the day fresh and new, and I get a Savior to guide me through it.
I'm not proud to admit that I don't always listen to Him when He speaks to me. And perhaps the strife in my life is a direct result of that. But each and every morning when I start fresh I know that He loves me that same that He did the day before, and that love is enough to keep me moving forward.