Project Hope

In case you ever wondered, my blog title is a line stolen from Louisa May Alcott.  In Little Women, Jo March ponders her direction in life and says “I fear I am hopelessly flawed.” 

I love Ms. Alcott, I love Little Women, and I simply adore Jo March.  I connect with her.  As a girl, I, too, struggled with feeling I didn’t fit in anywhere, and didn’t know where I was headed.  I, too, was a tomboy.  I, too, was (am) a writer. 

And I, too, am Hopelessly Flawed.

An imperfect specimen. 

But my Redeemer is perfect, and it is through Him that I have hope.

Generally, I try to stay on neutral ground here.  I have strong beliefs, but I don’t want to alienate anyone.  I am not ashamed!  But I cannot share anything if I chase someone away, either.  So mostly I try not to put my beliefs ‘out there’ in a way that would be a turn off, but occasionally I do have to fly my Jesus flag.

Something has been on my heart for a while now, and it’s time to put my money where my mouth is.  Find a need and fill it.

You may have noticed the button to the right over there.  [Feel free to snag, please, if you'd like to help spread the word.]

The idea is simple – no pressure, no preaching, just a book.  I’m offering to send a Bible to anyone who would like one but cannot afford it. 

You can click the logo above to read more about the Project (or there is a link in my header), and if you feel led to pray for it, I would appreciate that as well.

“Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light.” Norman B. Rice

Ta-Da!

It’s a whole new me!

Well ok no, it’s still the same old me.  But it’s a whole new beautiful look, anyway.

I was really fed up with the Blogger platform.  It was an easy, un-intimidating way to get started with a blog, but I had outgrown its capabilities and was frustrated.  I knew I wanted to switch to WordPress, and at the same time there were some other changes I wanted to make as well.

Enter Darcie – yes, Such the Spot Darcie.  She’s multi-talented!  I gave her an idea of what I wanted, and poof! this beautiful blog appeared.  Ok, so maybe it wasn’t quite that easy on her end, but on my end it was like magic.  She was fast, and if I do say so myself I think it is a beautiful design.  Did I mention that this is the first one she’s ever done?  Wow! If you’re needing a whole new look for your blog, or just want a button made, I highly recommend Darcie!

So…if you were following me over at A day in the life…, please change your bookmark to reflect the new site.  I’ll be leaving that site up and live for now but it will not be updating, so if you want the new scoop you’ll need to hop over here to Hopelessly Flawed.  Thanks for joining me on this crazy ride!

PS) If you find any broken links, errors, or other assortment of bugs and glitches, please let me know.  Still feeling my way around here!

My failings as a mother

Last night it occurred to me that I’ve been keeping my children alive more than I have been raising and nurturing them. And that is a disturbing realization.

Everyone here has been sick for quite a while and I think it’s only understandable that you muddle through in times like that. It’s hard to take care of other people when you’re feeling bad yourself. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic to their ills, I truly am. But I’m not as patient as my father. I’m not as kind as my mother. When three children spend an entire day crying and moaning, by about 3 pm I want to cry myself. By 7 pm I’m angry. And I am embarrassed to admit that.

I operate on an average of 4 hours of sleep per night and I’m drained. Believe me, I wish I could sleep more but for the foreseeable future that’s not the case. My dad recently gave me an article about the effect on your emotions when you don’t get enough sleep. This isn’t the same one, but it’s close enough. So maybe there is some explanation for my feelings, but that hardly makes it excusable.

I’ve always felt that, once you have kids, you matter a whole lot less. They come first. I know that comparison about the oxygen mask and how you can’t help anyone if you don’t help yourself first, but whatever. That goes against my every instinct as a mother. My girls are my whole world, and they are the most important people in my life. (I don’t feel bad saying this because I know my husband would say the same) So my own wants, needs, desires – they’re all pretty far down on the list. Yet now, it seems I’m not even putting them first. If I were, wouldn’t I be nicer? More patient, more kind? My daughter asked me yesterday if I had time to play a game with her and I nearly cried. Do I have time? But everything about me lately tells her that I don’t have time for her.

I am not the faithful servant that God deserves, the devoted wife I promised Chris I’d be, the selfless mother my children need. As Jo March said, I am hopelessly flawed. And while that’s depressing to accept, I know it’s true. But God forgives me. My husband accepts me. But my children…oh, my precious little angels. I worry about them. I’m afraid my inadequacies will do them irreparable damage. When I lose my temper and yell over torn books or whiny requests, what kind of example am I setting? Will the image of their mother the crazy person be burned into their psyches forever? Or worse yet, will they not see me as crazy and instead think this is normal, acceptable behavior that they will someday repeat with their own children?

I’m not sure what happened here. I look back over the past few weeks and months and I don’t see any monumental event, no big changes. But somehow I feel Satan has slipped in and I’m having trouble locking him back out. I don’t want to be this weak. I don’t want to be this grouchy. I’m normally a pretty positive person and I want that version of me back.

I’m making this very humbling pubic confession as a way of keeping myself accountable. Please don’t tell me that I’m a great mom – I’m not. Not even close. But I want to be. And I’m going to try to do better. I’m always telling my girls how much I love them, how important they are to me. But those are just words and talk is cheap. Now I’m praying for help to show them what a mom really should be. The kind of mom I have. The kind of mom my girls deserve. The kind of mom who always has time.