in the trenches

Last week I had a rough day. It was one of those days that started out promising yet never delivered. Lauren and I were off. It wasn't meshing. It wasn't pretty. At one point we were both sitting on the floor in the living room crying. Literally staring at each other and crying our eyes out. It wasn't my proudest moment as a parent.

My mood that day was sour. I allowed the enemy to gain access into my thought closet and if I am being totally honest with you I am just now today feeling that grip loosen from me. For one split second I lost sight of my goal. For a moment I allowed myself to venture into the dark place of self-doubt and it crippled me for almost a week. The questions were right there and easy to speak... What am I doing? Obviously I am not a good parent, why am I here? Isn't there someone more qualified? Am I messing this whole thing up? Do I have anything to offer or teach her? Why is this so hard? Why is it not perfect? (of course I should have expected this one, right?)

I talked to several people that day and the next. I knew that they were speaking truth over my life, even if it hurt and it meant that I had to buck up and stop my pity party. I knew I had to pick myself up. But still, I had let the enemy in to my most sacred and private areas and he kept tormenting me with them. Every time I thought it was under control, the heavy cloud settled back in my heart. I felt defeated and a mile behind.

I don't have a pretty way to tie up this post. All I know is that I am in the trenches. Fighting hard every day for my daughter. For her heart. I fight for the decision I made almost two years ago to stay home. I fight for my marriage and the love that has grown and changed and stayed true. I fight for my family and the legacy that we will pass on to our children and grandchildren.

Some days I lose the fight. Those are hard to take and leave me broken. But, some days I win. Some days I know the very peace that comes only from God and from honoring Him with this job of serving my family. And I learn. I change. I become better for having fought it out in the trenches.

A Piece of Plastic Clay
by Dr. Henrietta Mears

I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded to my will.

I came again when days were passed;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change the form no more.

I took a piece of living clay
And touched it gently day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child's soft and yielding heart.

I came again when years were gone;
It was a mind I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change that form no more.