I am the girl with mascara gunk in the corner of her eye. I don’t want to be that girl, but I am. To be fair, I do have a tiny little dark freckle on the inside corner which I myself mistake for unruly makeup no less than four times a day. Then, again, annoyed/enraged/resigned that it is, in fact, permanent.
Truthfully, I want to be so much more put together than I am at this moment. After producing a much thematically resplendent class snack for the letter C at Josiah’s preschool, he let me know (after it all went down), “ack-ch-ually, the letter of the week was B…but that’s okay, Mama.” Grace and Love from a four year old. I want to wrap up in it like a blanket and sleep in that goodness. In my days of trying and striving and cloying, I hold onto that. The gracious place rolled out by a four year old.
As my six year old let me know today, “Mama, you’re the one stressing us all out right now.” Yes, I see that reality. Also, please, fortheloveofallthatisgoodandmyholysanity, Get. In. The. CAR. Everyone!
You might understand trying really hard but still, somehow, totally missing it. Or you might understand not having the capacity to always be “on” as your best self in a group of people who don’t know you very well yet. Or, possibly, you have a little godforsakengunk in the corner of your eye that betrays your TOGERTHERNESS to the world!
I’m looping a season of stressed and crazed and disoriented. But I hold onto the truth that God is holding me in it anyway.
For those of you who rocked out letter C when it was letter B, in the simple and profound and grace-inviting words of a four year old, …”but that’s okay“. Wrap up in that blanket of grace the four year olds and God provide us. Roll in it. Rest in it. Come up stronger, if not just again, for a new day. It’s okay.
(all “good” pics photo cred goes to Mike Leboffe)