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    The Best and Worst of Me

    Saturday, May 9, 2015

    One of the biggest misconceptions from this social media driven world we live in is that everyone else's life is perfect.

    It's human nature to want to post cute pictures of our littles, the good things we've done this week and what all we're involved in and put it out there for the world to see.

    And while there's a fine line there that I think need's to be drawn as far as airing our dirty laundry, I do tend to think it might be helpful if we were all a little  bit more real. How good is our testimony if all we broadcast is perfectionism?

    So on that note, I'm sharing this story because the last thing I want people to think about me is that I'm all Mother Teresa-ish. Not because that wouldn't be great and wonderful, it would.

    But that's just not reality. Anything good that I do is all because of Him....it's really none of me.

    Last week while we were caring for our house full of sweet little girls plus one boy of mine, I had a not so wonderful moment. I have them quite often actually and when it only affects me, that's one thing. However, on this day, I let my meanness spill over and it was not good.

    The day had been long and eventful, spent in court fighting for the very life of three of five babes under my roof. The outcome had been good and my mind was relieved, but exhaustion quickly set in as soon as I got home and most of what I was pouring out of me and into these little lives was like lemonade that needs a lot sugar if you know what I mean.

    I was tired and my patience was getting pretty thin as the day lingered on.

    I stepped outside with the four littlest ones when I heard my boy and his precious neighbor friend announce that the electric scooters didn't work anymore. They tend to do that when submerged into a pool.

    "Really?!" I said yelled. "You really think that something like that is an ok thing to do?" They tucked their heads and my boy went inside and the neighbor child turned and headed home.

    Shame settled nice and heavy on my shoulders in about five seconds. I tried to pick it up and throw it off but there's just something about that weight called guilt; it can't be removed with human hands. That can only be done with words of apology from a broken heart.

    I'm not saying that I was wrong for correcting my boy. He does have to learn to respect his and anyone else's property. But it was not my place to raise my voice at either of them and definitely not my place to scold the neighbor child. He has a sweet mother who has handled that job for many years without my help.

    So I did what I had to do.

    Donning my big oversize t-shirt and ponytail high on my head, I strapped one baby in the stroller, put another on my hip and the other three followed me down the sidewalk to the neighbors house. Now that's quite a walk of shame let me tell you that much for sure.

    I knocked on the door and made said apologies and we walked home talking about how sometimes mommy messes up and has to apologize too.

    The only way little people are going to learn about grace and forgiveness is to see big people putting it into action.

    Did it hurt my pride? A little.

    But it made my heart feel so good that it was worth every bit of it.

    Some days I give the best of me and some other days unfortunately, I give the worst.

    At the end of every day though, I'm just like every other woman/wife/mother and that means I'm in need of a whole lot of grace. I'm so glad He has it to give.

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