I was talking to Mark about it the other night.
I’m nothing special. I’m average.
I’m not the best wife. Average.
I’m not the best momma. Average.
I’m not the best cook. Average.
I’m not the most stylish. Average-ish.
I’m not the most beautiful. Average.
I’m a whole lotta average.
I get overwhelmed with how average I am.
I go to bed after days where I fought the ugliness in my heart-
the frustration towards imperfect and average kiddos-
As in, I literally let tears fall and begged for grace.
They need more than an average mommy.
I walk around my house expecting to be enough
and despising my short-comings.
I will never be enough.
They need a Savior.
I realize this when I have a wreck of a day.
Those days when heat wells up in my bones.
Things have been dumped, broken, smeared, ruined.
Throughout it all I pray for patience and peace in my heart,
but there is that one time when I decide to use my own will to overcome things.
My knees get knocked out from underneath me and I see clearly that I have no business
trying to do this “mom gig” on my own.
I need a Savior.
I’ll wrap this up by saying I am in the most beautiful place-
loving on my babies.
In all the beauty, there is an insufficiency.
I am just average.
I am not enough on my own.
I just want to encourage mommas who are average.
You might not be enough,
but I know Who is.