Hopeful

My sweet friend and I have begun the journey of reading Desperate by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson. We read through bits and pieces here and there, and then email each other with insights we have gleaned.  We only live ten minutes apart from each other, but emailing and texting seem to be the best forms of communication.  I love getting her texts and emails, which describe the craziness of everyday life.  It reminds me that I'm not alone.

I haven't posted on this blog for some time.  I have felt discouraged as a mom for some time now.  I originally started this blog because I was asked by an old boss to hold parenting classes at her facility.  I was thrilled at the idea, but decided that it wasn't the right time for me to do this.  And besides, I reasoned, who was I to give parenting classes?  I felt like I was barely surviving each day as it was.

When I first opened the pages of Desperate a few weeks ago, I was shocked to read of Sarah Mae's own struggle growing up with an addict and how that made her create unrealistic expectations of herself as a mother.  I loved hearing of her own feelings of inadequacy, failure, and the desire just to give up and quit as a mother.  I have struggled with these very same issues for years, and have constantly condemned myself for such feelings and failures, beating myself up day after day after day, wondering what the Lord was thinking when He made me a mother.

I also grew up in a home with an addicted parent, and in recent months and years have learned such terms as Adult Child of an Alcoholic and Codependent.  I felt relieved to find that there was a reason, an explanation, for these bizarre emotions and reactions I frequently have.  But on the other hand, I have been struggling with not allowing them to be my identity.  Yes, I struggle with these issues but they don't have to define me as a person.

One of the most beautiful statements Sarah Mae made about her own mother, which reminded me to have grace for my own flawed mom.

She wasn't bad; she was wounded.  Her own pain came out in sarcastic unnurturing, unsympathetic, unmotherly ways.

While I have many fond memories of healthier seasons in relationship with my own mom, the pain of what has been lost in our relationship in recent years tempts me to be bitter toward her.  But the Lord reminds me, that she is His child just as much as I am.  Who am I to question His plan for her life, even when it makes no sense to me?

Because I have so harshly judged my mom for her wrongdoing, I often fear the harsh judgment of my own children against me in the future.  I know this is a lie of Satan, and for some reason, I keep believing the lie.  When I choose to buy into his deception, I inadvertently keep myself at an emotional distance from my children, for fear that I will keep letting them down.

I am a work in progress.  I can't allow myself to be overwhelmed by all the work that the Lord still needs to do in my life.  But I can hold on to beautiful truths.  I have adopted Sarah Mae's statement:

I'm in a new season.  Wisdom is my companion, and leaning into God is my hope.

I also rediscovered this verse yesterday, and it overwhelms me with hope.

If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.  -Jeremiah 19:13-