Why do I do this to myself? For some reason I have this insatiable desire to read blogs about people’s lives that are nothing like mine. Not only do they actually post PICTURES on their blogs but the pictures are of beautifully dressed children at colour-coordinated parties with lovely moms wearing HEELS, serving cake in their immaculately decorated homes.
People. That is not me. My daughters dress themselves and have since they were two. They pick out their own clothes and I’m happy for them to do it because it’s one less thing I need to do. And okay, some days they are not at all colour coordinated. Generally I don’t care, but sometimes, like when I’m comparing my children with others, I do care. And do I even own a pair of heels? No. And yes, I wear Birkenstocks almost every day of the year and I really don’t care what anyone thinks about that. I’ve worn Birkenstocks since I was in college and I love them.
So as I read blogs about cutie-patootie baby showers and uber-decorated homes, I can start to feel bad about myself. Like, somehow, if I were more something I would be able to do all those things too. But the last week or so I have really started to evaluate who I am, what God has placed me here for, what does He want me to accomplish. And you know what? I’m pretty sure that God has not placed me here to have a home worthy of Better Homes and Gardens. And Martha Stewart certainly isn’t going to be coming by for a photo shoot unless it’s for a ‘before’ picture. She may, on the other hand, want some of my recipes
During this whole soul-searching process I am being required to give myself a break. Novel concept, eh? I am not superwoman. I will never be able to achieve perfection here on earth. I must focus on the things that have eternal significance. Right now, that’s my relationships with God, my marriage and my family. Everything else comes farther down the list.
My children will probably never have cutie-patootie birthday parties, but they will have memorable birthdays (thanks to a dear friend that baked Precious a Barbie doll cake this year). My children don’t look like a Gymboree ad, but they do have freedom to be creative in what they wear. My home is not magazine ready, but the door is always open and you don’t even have to call in advance.