Motherhood is important and beautiful and lonely and hard.
I wrote a post earlier today venting my frustrations. But I couldn’t hit publish. And I’m glad I didn’t.
And it’s not because I want to put my best foot forward or have an enviable life. It’s because I don’t like that part of my heart. I don’t want to capture and remember my hard heart toward my children. The part that is not gracious or loving or patient at all.
My frustration is equal parts with my children and with myself. I wish I could handle things differently. I wish I could handle things the best way. With true patience and not fake patience. And my prayer is that they will feel love in spite of me.
So instead of publishing every detail of what went wrong about this week, I lay on the floor and listened to this song,
I lift my hands to believe again
You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God, forever.