on comparison

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There is something that has crept into my mom heart that I didn't expect. I was prepared for a few things and felt armed to fight them:

Inadequacy.

Guilt.

Fear.

Those things that try to steal the joy of mothers everywhere, by whispering you're just not good enough, are you? I know enough amazing mothers to know that those feelings come with the territory, so I'm not surprised when I feel them and I just get to praying that my little heart won't let it sink it.

But there's something else, y'all.

Comparison. Talk about a joy-stealer.

I was going to list some of the thoughts that dance through my mind when I see another young mother, the thoughts that force me to compare myself to her and determine that I'm just not good enough, am I? But I don't think that would bless anyone here and I'm not going to allow myself to spend any more time on those thoughts that I already do.

The point is that it's disgusting. 

I'm a good mom, you know? I love my kid. I mean, I really love him. And he knows it! You should see  how that boy lights up when he sees me. And I take care of him. And I teach him things and I help him grow and I am a good mother. A good one.

This morning, I realized that it's time to get real about defeating this whole comparison thing. I've been wallowing in it a bit, really, and using it to try and be betterbetterbetter. But I'm completely robbing God of the glory for the work He's done in me by not believing that what He's done in me is good.

It's good, Page. You are a good work.

Jack needs a confident mom. One who loves like Jesus and gives grace like Jesus and serves like Jesus. And Jesus surely didn't look to others to determine who and how to be. He looked to one Other and that was the only one that mattered.

So I'm committing to kick this habit. No more comparison! No more.

I ordered this print from Naptime Diaries, because I'm determined to drill it into my heart. I plan on hanging it somewhere so it's in my face 342x a day. 

That's truth right there, y'all. And I'm bound and determined to believe it.

wordless(ish) wednesday

These pictures alone are enough to make me keep my promise of using the good camera more often.

Holy cute.

able

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I have so many words in my heart right now and even though I've been trying for the last hour to get them out, they just won't say what I want them to. Does that ever happen to you?

What I want them to say is that I feel so grateful to be able. 

I've done things in the last month that I never thought I'd do. Things that were always on Andrew's list because they were boy jobs or because I just didn't want to do them by myself. 

But I quickly realized that his weekends at home are going to be few and far between and what I'd rather do is drink coffee in the sunroom with him, catching up and enjoying the son I know he's going to miss so much.

So I started doing these things myself. Some things took me twice as long (i.e. painting and repainting the living room). Some things required some education on my part (i.e caulking around the fireplace). Some things resulted in minor back pain (i.e. putting together and moving a giant bookcase).

But I did them all. And I'm proud of myself for it.

This afternoon, while Jack was napping and I was lugging boxes out to the garage, I thanked God for making me able. For giving me a body that could do those things and for building a confidence in me that allowed me to believe that I could do them.

And then I realized that the girl I knew five years ago wouldn't have been cut out for this job. The moving and the building and the fixing. The baby who is being clingy and cries when she leaves the room to go to the bathroom. The dog who is being needy and won't get off her heels. The jogging stroller that just won't go together as easily as the box said it would. The rain that just keeps falling, falling, falling. All the while, the husband is away. Again.

That girl was a lightweight. But by His grace, here I am.

Able.

Amen.