I’ve thought a lot lately about how I want my kids to remember their childhoods. Dan and I were raised very differently, and we spend a lot of time talking and praying about how we want to raise our miniature people. The thing is that our life is literally chaos right now. Like a friend said to me recently: Kari it’s okay to admit that your life is just crazier than most right now, because it just is. I am a giver, so it’s hard for me to slow down and take very often. I am also super type A in a super chill kinda way. Sounds weird, but its the truth.
So with this season of super close in age toddlers, a new business that we feel so overwhelmed with most days, a blog that I feel called to write more on, two websites, t-shirts, dogs, a power bill, dinners, and the list goes on…. I have realized that my fuse has been short, and although I swore I would never yell, well sometimes I just do.
Like the other night when I was going on 48 hours of single parenthood, and William didn’t nap, and the shower curtain fell on my head about the same time that William pee’d on the floor. You bet. I yelled. Sure did.
But then I curled in bed with buddy, and I told him exactly what was going on. I told him that I missed daddy, that I was tired, and that it was hard to open daddy’s new office. As I held his sweet little hand, I apologized, and told him that I didn’t always make the best choices either, and that’s how I was able to forgive him when he wasn’t kind too.
He told me: It’s okay mommy, I love you, and I miss daddy too.
So today it happened again. I was up late baking for some extra money for some Christmas orders that I received, and Dan’s super stressed trying to get the final things done with the clinic. I somehow managed to bake 13 mini pumpkin loaves, dress both kids and myself, and pack lunches and head up to the clinic to deliver sandwiches to daddy. We got there, and it was a bit crazy, so our visit was pretty short.
I was driving home with more butter and cream cheese to bake some more, and my head was hurting, and I just was feeling spread thin. This song came on:
I’ve had this on repeat lately, because this song y’all. I mean it’s the gospel. And I heard some noises from the back of the car, and little William was singing along. He only knew a few words here and there, but to hear his little voice singing “EMMANUEL”. WOW! A few tears began to creep down my cheek, and it hit me.
I want them to remember their mommy and daddy as real and raw. I want them to see us mess up, and I want them to see us asking them for forgiveness. I hope that our house is one of grace and willingness to meet each other wherever we need to. In a world full of filters and botox and murder and hate, I hope that under this roof they feel no reason to be anyone, but who God made them to be.
Behold, behold the One our Love has come.
Behold, behold the One our King has come.
I hope that they feel the freedom to know that the King who came doesn’t expect us to carry all of this on our own, and that we leave a legacy of love and laughter and mess and hugs.
This pressure to be everything for our friends or kids or spouses is just unattainable, and I am the worst at this.
So cheers to more grace and recognition that our King has come.
Defeated death, He broke the grave
Our hope returned, the lost are saved
We lift our voice in never ending praise.