This motherhood gig. It’s stretching me. I’m the on time, dressed nice, color coordinated, baked perfection, gonna do it on my own no matter the resistance mom. I’m a planner, a preper, a organizer. Driven by my overwhelming anxiety that runs deep to always preform on point. My mind constantly getting lost while dreaming of how each moment will unfold. Each time I last a little longer before becoming to adventurous & handing myself a big dose of humble pie piled high.
The more I try to force these daydreams to life, perfection, obedience. Those moments I place presentation before the grace of reality. That is where my slice is served.
Rather when I can breath, I relax into the reality of toddlerhood, that no not everyone is sending gasping glances. When my rigid heart loosens, I can smile with authenticity as I chase down the runner. I can pray fully as I wrestle busy hands. I can enter in to honest fellowship no matter the chaos sitting in my lap. Someday I’ll use those fancy forks without food in my lap, but for now that’s our season. Someday I’ll miss those swinging feet so content.
This is where Jesus would have us. Having him such a part of our hearts core that we carry his grace like we breath in his air. Without a thought we step in line with the heart of Christ, grace abounding. Instinctual wisdom is daily my prayer.
Let your grace be all consuming so that I may partake fully in every moment