So before I begin this blog, before I launch into my deep thoughts about life and snarky witticisms… let me set the record straight. I love my life. Not in the “I should be grateful–there-are-starving-people-in-Africa way”… I TRULY love my life. Here’s why…
I go to bed every night and wake up every morning next to a man who loves me- truly loves me. This man knows me, to my core. And what is so amazing about his love is that it comes naturally, without prompting, without needing recognition and without hesitation. He loves me. This man loves to give gifts and knows that a day at the spa is a wonderful gift for any woman. But for an eternal extrovert like myself, 7 hours at a spa alone is like the slow burning firey pits of hell. BUT! A gift card for me and a friend… priceless. 7 hours with a girlfriend, laughing, sharing, connecting is like oxygen for me. It rejuvenates my soul. He knows this and I never had to tell him. He knows my quirks, my fears and insecurities, my strengths and weaknesses and my never ending needs. And strangely enough… he loves me anyway.
I have two fabulous boys. They are so different, so unique. I often wonder how two totally different creatures could have been conceived by the same parents. They bring me joy, they bring me to tears, they make me slow down, they make me stay organized, they keep my on my knees and in prayer… but mostly, they make me a better person than I ever could have been without them.
I have friends… man do I have the best friends. Some have shared most if not all of my life. You know those friends who are always in the background or on the sidelines of all your childhood memories. Others are more recent- friends I have met as I grew up and got my first jobs, became a wife and a mom. Each is a marker of some significant time of my life, and all have brought me gifts that last a lifetime- the gift of eternity, the gift of laughter, the gift of sisterhood, the gift of honesty and encouragement and acceptance. No two are the same. Yet we all share the bond of being wives, mothers, sisters, women.
I have a family whose ties are beyond measure. We’ve got our baggage, don’t get me wrong. But at the end of the day no one ever left the room angry, or with words unsaid or without being heard. We have blown our tops and said things in anger or in hurt, but we’ve always made amends; and in the end, the legacy that has been passed down is love.
And most importantly, I am loved by a king, The Creator. With all my faults and shortcomings, my fears and insecurities, self-centered ambitions, judgemental attitudes and all-too-often potty mouth, to Him, I am beloved. I am His. I am loved.
So why the heck do I need a blog? What could I possibly have to say other than, “Nanner, nanner, nanner. My life is better than yours!”? Well, in spite of all I have, I am 35 years old and have never felt normal. Yes, normal. It’s such a simple word that carries such weight and meaning. I have never felt right in my own skin. I have rarely known the peace and joy of just being. I mostly just felt like I was a list of mistakes and selfish choices or terrible thoughts that I needed to feel guilty about. I talk too much. I care too much about how I look. I’m too emotional. blah, blah, blah…
But I have been on a journey this last year and it has taken me from the edge of panic, doubt, fear and sadness to the breathtaking peak of joy and acceptance. I have learned so many things about myself, about moms, about women, about life. I’m not wise. I’m not an expert. I probably have nothing to say that hasn’t been said before. And I certainly don’t have all the answers. But there is freedom and peace in hearing that some one else feels as you feel, thinks like you think. And that just makes me feel a little farther along in my pursuit of normal.