I wonder sometimes when this screwing up thing will end.  I think I’m starting to realize it won’t.  Being a parent equals messing up, often in a BIG way.  I did it, again, recently.  I messed up, screwed up, did it all wrong, and my child is paying the price.

A harmless text to a few friends, or so I thought.  I thought it was too adorable not to share – his newfound appreciation for smelling good after receiving cologne for Christmas.  I meant to be open and funny and bond with other moms over the preciousness of a child on the brink of puberty.  But I forgot something important.  I forgot that those moms might decide to share the story with their own little boys on the brink of puberty, and that’s where it all went to hell.  You see, little boys can be cruel to one another, much like adults I guess.  They see a place to poke and they go in for the kill.  I’m sure they meant to be open and funny too.  But all he felt was the sting.

Damn.  This parenting thing really sucks sometimes.

He’s already teetering on shutting me out.  He’s quiet, reserved, moody.  He’s almost twelve, and so I expected this was coming.  Expected and dreaded, even while knowing it’s exactly how things are supposed to go.  This becoming independent – it all hinges on his ability to pull away from me.  He has to do it.  It’s healthy for him to do it, in fact, no matter how much it wounds my soul. 

I had hoped I could do it well – parent a child who has begun to realize he won’t always be parented.  It’s difficult, but I thought I could do it well.

I knew something was up when he came downstairs that morning without the cologne on, and deep down, I knew it was my fault.  I should have kept it for me alone.  I should have relished in the way it made my heart feel - both wide open with joy and torn to shreds with sorrow - to see him doing something so indicative of where he’s headed.  To see my son showing an ounce of concern over his appearance because that’s what growing up does to little boys – it makes them self-aware.  It’s a good thing, in many ways, and there is a thread of relief woven through those moments when you realize your child might actually brush their teeth one day without being asked because they are changing in exactly the ways they are supposed to change.  

I should have kept it to myself.  But there was pride mixed in with the joy and the sorrow.  There was pride and wonder and fear and even hopefulness for what is to come, and when all those feelings intersect, you are left with nothing to do but laugh.

And so that’s what I did. 

I laughed about how much cologne he was using and shared it with my friends because that’s how you find relief in those moments that feel like they will crush you.

And instead, I crushed him.

I’ve apologized.  I’ve cried and lost sleep and cried some more, and I’ve apologized.  But like all those other times I knew I’d messed up in such an incredibly huge way, I can’t let it go.  Because I know, he’ll remember this one.  That time I spanked him and sobbed for weeks afterwards.  That time I intentionally broke a Lego creation because he had been so mean to his sister.  He was little then.  Too little to remember.  But this one, he will carry.  The time his own mom turned him into a joke.  He will remember, and so will I.  And hopefully, it will be a lesson well-learned.

Damn.  This parenting thing really sucks sometimes.

Light Me Up In 2015!

 
If you ask me, the end of 2014 felt heavy.

There is often a bit of a letdown after Christmas.  I get that.  The anticipation is so great for all those weeks and the celebration of his birth means everything and then, it’s all over. 

I usually feel sad for a few days after Christmas, when I know I must wait another year to honor our baby king with beautiful lights and nostalgic music and, of course, gingerbread cookies.  As much as I love putting the decorations away, because that’s what people with OCD delight in after a hectic month, when everything is packed up neatly in tubs and tucked away for another eleven months, I instantly miss the tree and the manger and that Christmas feeling.  You know the one – that comfort you feel deep inside that all is right and peace will reign and love is the only thing we need. 

Christmas is twinkly and bright and exciting.  It’s full of surprises and celebrations and smiles.  Christmas is magical, and when it ends, all that joy that’s been building up for a month seems to fade as we face the reality that it will be a while before everything feels so special again. 

It never lasts more than a few days, and so I expected the same this go round.  But this year, it was different.  This year, the afterwards felt more empty than usual.  The sadness felt too deep.  My shoulders ached and my neck felt sore and I found tears lying just beyond everything I saw. 

There was no reason for the burdens that pulled me down.  God is good and my circumstances are too.  Great marriage.  Happy kids.  Our family is healthy, clothed, fed, sheltered.  We are warm and dry and so incredibly blessed.  I’m literally drowning in blessings.  But, drowning is still . . .

Drowning.

The guilt overwhelmed me as the new year began.  Get it together, girl, ran constantly through my mind.  You should live in a constant state of thankfulness with this life you lead.  People are hungry and scared and sick and alone and You. Should. Be. Nothing. But. Grateful.

GET IT TOGETHER. 

Then, I realized what was happening.  We do this thing every year, as one draws to a close and another begins.  We take stock.  While simultaneously pressing forward – making plans and goals and wishes - we can’t help but look back, and all that remembering fills us with emotions that have massive weight.

The last twelve months?

They were heavy.

Call my life blessed all you want because it is.  Call me fortunate because I am.  It doesn’t change the fact that for me . . . 2014 was hard.

2014 did not go as planned.

2014 had many messes and lots of tears and a whole heap of pain.

There was sadness and sickness and shame.  There were dashed dreams and unmet expectations and altered friendships that will never be the same.  There was loss and there was anger and there was the realization that God’s plans for me might not ever line up with my own.

It was a difficult year, and aren’t they all, my friends, on some days?

Doesn’t every year come complete with longings that can’t be fulfilled, relationships that can’t be mended, and conditions that can’t be changed?  Doesn’t every year have drought and doubt and darkness?  

Don’t we all have those days when we just can’t seem to find the light, and isn’t it okay as long as we let His light be the one that leads us out of our dark places?

It always does, you know.  He always shows us the way back to Him, and once we sit again at his feet, we can remember the rest. 

We can remember that amid the inevitable sorrow every year brings, there was SO MUCH beauty and joy to behold.  There were countless fun times and new friendships and a ton of laughter.  There were overcome challenges and memorable experiences and exciting opportunities.  Dashed dreams paved the way for new ideas.  Unmet expectations encouraged improvement.  Altered friendships taught us about forgiveness.  There was growth and gain and greatness in every single day, if we simply choose to look back on each of them through the lens of his glory and grace.

January brings sadness for me.  It just does.  I’ve blamed it on many things over the years – the end of the holiday season, the cold weather, the gray skies.  Yet I’ve realized it’s not a specific situation in my life weighing me down.  It’s simply because the flip of the calendar to a new year, to a new month in which I actually get to slow down long enough to be still with my thoughts, ignites in me the desire to evaluate the state of my heart.  And y’all, when I look long and hard at my heart . . . I’m sad.  Because I can see, my heart is still not where I want it to be.  I’ve had 12 months to give more, and I haven’t.  I’ve had 52 weeks to serve more, and I haven’t.  I’ve had 365 days to be a better wife and mom and daughter and daughter-in-law and sister and sister-in-law and aunt and friend, and I haven’t. 

Another ENTIRE YEAR has gone by . . . and I still don’t look a whole lot like Jesus. 

I’m not giving up.  This year has already started off much better than last year, because I spent the first week of this year with family and friends, instead of in the hospital (can I get an Amen for the one year birthday of my fabulous semi-colon?!). 

Without a doubt, 2015 promises to be another year of fullness.  I am certain it will be full of some familiar heartaches, because life will always have valleys this side of heaven.  There will be mistakes and missteps over the next twelve months, just as there were over the last twelve, and some of them might push me into those dark places where life feels hard and heavy.


I will not remain there. 


Because I know, His light is brighter than any darkness I face.  My heart may still be full of sin, but I know He is at work inside it, and He’s. Not. Giving. Up. Either.  


He is using every dark place in my life to shape me.  To change me.  To mold me in his image. 

And with every mountaintop I reach, I pray that I will be better able to reflect Him.

Happy New Year, my friends!  Wishing you health, happiness, and an abundance of His light and love in 2015!!!

Then spoke Jesus again to them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that follows me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.  John 8:12