Ink Eyebrows and Weary Moms

Thee Farm Kid gets off of the bus. Comes in the front door and slings his backpack across the floor as usual. And then, I have to look twice. Twice. He has drawn eyebrows, a mustache and a full beard on his face with black ink pen. The eyebrows throw me into hysterics. They are so precise. What would possess him to be ever so creative? His sister tells me that he sat on the hour long bus ride with THAT on his face. I am still laughing. If I don't laugh I will cry.

Thee Farm Kid who drew eyebrows the next day...

I have a fantastic group of friends- there are 7 or 8 of us. I believe I am the eldest (oldest?) One of us is single, no children. All of our kiddos have had some type of crud this winter. Others have battled infertility.  Children who have turned their backs on God and on them. We've all witnessed miracles. And we have this amazing group text going on where we just keep encouraging. House needs sold? No problem. We're all praying. Everyone down with the flu? Healing prayers go up. 

And then last night. A weary mom feels guilty for feeling like a mom-failure. She's yelling. The house is a disaster. She may or may have not said unkind things to her husband. She may have very well lost her ever loving mind. And so we began pouring out texts. 

• Lean on God, my friend.
• Some days are good, and some are awful, we're all here with you.
• I want to focus on God this Lenten season, not give something up.
• I fall short, too!
• I feel like I'm failing.

And my response to them all:

Please, please, please ladies do not think for one minute that just because we are Christ followers that we will be perfect mamas. I fell for that lie that Satan kept whispering in my ear and I gave up. Never give up! Keep fighting for your kids It's never ever too late to start a day or even a moment again!!!!!

And then the realization from a weary mom that we probably will never get this parenting thing figured out because it's supposed to remind us who really is in control.

Amen, sister, Amen. 

If being a Christian meant perfection I'd want no part of it. How else am I to help those around me who are battling the same craziness that I am? One sin-filled, impatient, God-leaning day at a time.