Standing with my foot propped up on the edge of the van, I slid my sockless foot into my boot and felt the sticky, fake, leather bottom. After tying my boot, I threw my freshly clean sock to my daughter (who had lost one of the socks I just gave her) before walking into church with one sock on and one sock, obviously, off.
Fifteen minutes prior to this, I was blow drying one child’s hair while, in more or less words, being told I was a savage for insisting on brushing and drying her hair before walking out into the December weather. At the exact same time, I had another child practically dying because I asked her to dress in a not homeless type of way to go to church. I didn’t even suggest a ruffly, itchy dress and panty hose and the awful shiny black buckle shoes that I was made to wear every Sunday to church as a child, but still the pangs of death were raging all around her as she put on her stretchy jeans and sweatshirt. As she threw her shirt on, another child cried and cried because he simply did not want to have his eyes open before 11:00AM. And to top it off, the little one was devastated because I wouldn’t let him use his sister’s blue toothbrush. I cannot believe the hand these children were dealt. Appalling.
I was flying solo that morning and had yet to convince the children to be on my team. Still working on that.
No One Knew
No one knew my sockless situation as I walked into church a few minutes late and sat down. No one knew I had one normal feeling foot and one nasty foot that was dying because it has no familiarity with being un-socked in boots. No one knew I sat in church trying to hold my foot up inside of my boot so that it wouldn’t touch the bottom.
Maybe you didn’t walk around with a disgusting sockless foot for an hour and a half, but maybe you walked around on the brink of a breakdown. Maybe that overflowing plate you’ve been carrying around is getting ready to crash onto the floor. Maybe that feeling of depression or anxiety is so heavy and has been so long lasting that you just want to lay in bed…or worse that you don’t even want to feel anymore. Maybe that feeling of comparison is getting to you day after day and all you want to do is look like you have it all together…and you just don’t. No one knew.
If you are just now tuning into Brooke’s-life-story-on-a-page-where-she-shares-way-too-much-info… welcome to the party.
- I am impatient.
- I yell at my kids more often than I’m okay with.
- I don’t like school dress up days.
- I forget to pay school lunch bills until like the third bill.
- I sometimes give clothes the smell check and if they don’t stink I wear them again.
- My van is clean maybe 18 days out of the year.
- I sometimes eat a plate of food before my kids even make it to the table because they are doing who the heck knows what and we pray halfway through meals.
- I talk about myself too much. (If you don’t believe me, read the past 4 years of this blog.)
- I am selfish.
- Sometimes I hide and eat the last three Oreos so my kids don’t take them from eat. (I mean I give the people the socks off my feet…why must I share the last three Oreos?)
Boast in Our Weakness
If you’ve been walking around feeling like a crud-ball mother or human being because of a similar list; recognize the weakness…be aware of it. But don’t be defined by it. Paul boasted in his weakness. “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2nd Corinthians 12:9) (#wonder #faithchurchhinton #thanksforbringingthewordtiffany)
I am impatient.I am loved. I yell at my kids more often than I’m okay with.I am forgiven. I don’t like school dress up days.I am His. I forget to pay school lunch bills until like the third bill.I am chosen. I sometimes give clothes the smell check and if they don’t stink I wear them again.I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My van is clean maybe 18 days out of the year.I am wanted. I sometimes eat a plate of food before my kids even make it to the table because they are doing who the heck knows what.I am a new creation. I talk about myself too much. (If you don’t believe me, read the past 4 years of this blog.)I am redeemed. I am selfish.I am accepted. Sometimes I hide and eat the last three Oreos so my kids don’t take them from eat. (I mean I give the people the socks off my feet…why must I share the last three Oreos?)I am known…
And yet still loved.
Bye friends. :- )
P.S. Sometimes the pictures I choose for blogs are simply of people I love whose photos I’ve taken over the years. I chose this picture and then laughed when it hit me…the connection between the whole “no one knew” idea and the fact that “no one (not even you) knew” you were like 7/8 months pregnant in this picture! Okay…bye again friends!