I just dropped, literally dropped my mop to write you this. And when I pause myself when I'm in that mode...you know it's gotta be good. This is something, as women, that we need to know. Deep down. We need to hear it, learn it, remember it. And if you're a man reading this, know this about the women in your life, your daughters, your wives, your sisters and your mom. They need you to know this too.
I'm fat. I'm out of shape. I don't look like her. I'm always running behind. I have nothing to give. I'm not great at anything. I fail as a mother daily. I neglect my husband too often. My house isn't perfect. I will never be enough.
Ever said these things to yourself?
Yeah, me too.
But here's what I'm learning.
Mamas, you know how we feel about our children when they're doing something good. When they accomplish something for the first time? When they sing a song, or write their name, when they roll over or take their first steps? When they're kind to a friend, or respectful to an adult? That undeniable sense of pride. That thought of, "wow, you're so smart, beautiful, fast, strong, kind, perfect!"
Our Father sees us in that very same light. He looks at us and delights in his creation.
He delights in YOU.
He says, "You are so smart, so beautiful. You are kind, fast and strong. You are mine and I am proud."
Read that again. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Those things we tell ourselves, those little voices we hear, repeating over and over that we're not enough...they aren't from our creator.
If we could intentionally tell ourselves that everyday, better yet, if we could intentionally tell each other, tell our children that truth, oh what would that do? If our husbands, our dads, our brothers intentionally spoke the truth into us. How things would be different...how different would we feel?
But let's move into reality, my reality.
I've survived six whole weeks. As a mother of two girls. How does that happen? Six weeks gone so fast? Kindergarten A is actually in kindergarten and I have to get her to school at the rude hour of 8am. Who can get out of the house that early? And baby C, who I've renamed Lumpkins...she's doing a fantastic job being a baby. But mama? I'm just surviving.
I got to see Liz at that appointment. She's the midwife we all get to thank for not letting Lumpkins hit the bathroom floor. She says, "You look great! You've lost 16 or 17 pounds" But as I stepped off the scale I cringed. My goal was to be at my pre-baby weight by six weeks postpartum. And I still have 10 pounds to lose.
I'm not enough.
Everyday, I look at my stomach. The one that carried life. I look at my body. The one that brought two beautiful girls into the world. And I shudder.
And I pray for that thought to be taken from me. And to be replaced. To be erased. For the truth to be louder than a whisper and the lie to be overcome.
"You created the deepest parts of my being.
You put me together inside my mother’s body.
How you made me is amazing and wonderful.
I praise you for that.
What you have done is wonderful.
I know that very well."
And
"You planned how many days I would live.
You wrote down the number of them in your book
before I had lived through even one of them.
Amazing. Wonderful. Priceless.
Those are His words. About us.
I want to know that. Remember it. Truly hear it.
And don't read this wrong. This doesn't give us an excuse to not try. To not strive to be better.
But when you haven't showered and have spit up on your shirt. Or are late again for the eight hundredth time. Or look in the mirror and don't like what you see.
It just gives us permission to give ourselves grace. To take one day at a time. To take a step forward, to make progress, imperfect progress.
Because I am enough. And so are you.
Tell somebody that today. #YouAreEnough
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I'm fat. I'm out of shape. I don't look like her. I'm always running behind. I have nothing to give. I'm not great at anything. I fail as a mother daily. I neglect my husband too often. My house isn't perfect. I will never be enough.
Ever said these things to yourself?
Yeah, me too.
But here's what I'm learning.
Mamas, you know how we feel about our children when they're doing something good. When they accomplish something for the first time? When they sing a song, or write their name, when they roll over or take their first steps? When they're kind to a friend, or respectful to an adult? That undeniable sense of pride. That thought of, "wow, you're so smart, beautiful, fast, strong, kind, perfect!"
Our Father sees us in that very same light. He looks at us and delights in his creation.
He delights in YOU.
He says, "You are so smart, so beautiful. You are kind, fast and strong. You are mine and I am proud."
Read that again. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Those things we tell ourselves, those little voices we hear, repeating over and over that we're not enough...they aren't from our creator.
If we could intentionally tell ourselves that everyday, better yet, if we could intentionally tell each other, tell our children that truth, oh what would that do? If our husbands, our dads, our brothers intentionally spoke the truth into us. How things would be different...how different would we feel?
But let's move into reality, my reality.
I've survived six whole weeks. As a mother of two girls. How does that happen? Six weeks gone so fast? Kindergarten A is actually in kindergarten and I have to get her to school at the rude hour of 8am. Who can get out of the house that early? And baby C, who I've renamed Lumpkins...she's doing a fantastic job being a baby. But mama? I'm just surviving.
I have on a shirt. I also had on this shirt yesterday. And I know for a fact in the middle of the night Lumpkins spit up all over me. Did I change my shirt? It was 4 AM in the morning. Nobody's got time to change clothes at that hour. Plus I used our sheets to wipe it off. I met my coworker for my first day back at work in this shirt. Hey, we at least met at my house. I also left my doctors appointment wearing this shirt. Surviving I tell you. At least it's a cute shirt.
I got to see Liz at that appointment. She's the midwife we all get to thank for not letting Lumpkins hit the bathroom floor. She says, "You look great! You've lost 16 or 17 pounds" But as I stepped off the scale I cringed. My goal was to be at my pre-baby weight by six weeks postpartum. And I still have 10 pounds to lose.
I'm not enough.
Everyday, I look at my stomach. The one that carried life. I look at my body. The one that brought two beautiful girls into the world. And I shudder.
And I pray for that thought to be taken from me. And to be replaced. To be erased. For the truth to be louder than a whisper and the lie to be overcome.
"You created the deepest parts of my being.
You put me together inside my mother’s body.
How you made me is amazing and wonderful.
I praise you for that.
What you have done is wonderful.
I know that very well."
And
"You planned how many days I would live.
You wrote down the number of them in your book
before I had lived through even one of them.
God, your thoughts about me are priceless.
No one can possibly add them all up.
No one can possibly add them all up.
If I could count them,
they would be more than the grains of sand.
If I were to fall asleep counting and then wake up,
you would still be there with me."
they would be more than the grains of sand.
If I were to fall asleep counting and then wake up,
you would still be there with me."
*Psalm 139
Those are His words. About us.
I want to know that. Remember it. Truly hear it.
And don't read this wrong. This doesn't give us an excuse to not try. To not strive to be better.
But when you haven't showered and have spit up on your shirt. Or are late again for the eight hundredth time. Or look in the mirror and don't like what you see.
It just gives us permission to give ourselves grace. To take one day at a time. To take a step forward, to make progress, imperfect progress.
Because I am enough. And so are you.
Tell somebody that today. #YouAreEnough
