Clumsy. That’s how my offering feels today. Draped in lasagne stains and dripping milk and salty sweat and tired eyes.
I wish my offering looked pretty and whole and packaged nicely. I long to be sharp, put together, en pointe.
But I’m not.
There are little voices that interrupt perfection; tiny cries that dull my edge. Interruptions to the thoughts and prayers that constantly pour from my heart and mind. Words that go unspoken. Visions that remain unachieved.
Little smiles that beg to be returned. “Can you see me mommy? Watch this.”
She twirls one more time.
And I’m watching. I’m so, so glad to be watching. There’s no where else I’d rather be.
But I’m tripping and falling and… clumsy.
How can I be so far from who I know I could be and yet so happy with who I am?
These three have changed me… not just the gentle rolls lining my stomach, the sag in my chest, the lines around my eyes…
Their urgency trumps my important. Hungry tummies and bare bottoms beg my sacrifice until there’s nothing more to lay down.
My capacity feels stretched and thin. My focus dulled. My attention fleeting.
But I’m finally starting to get comfortable in this offering I have to give.
I’m farther than ever from perfection and closer than ever to grace.
Robes of righteousness clothe me.
We come as one – these little people and me. We’re loud and messy, sporadic and laughing, tired and tantrumming, loving, pursuing, inviting, teaching, learning… here.
Confident in our calling. Clumsy and committed and clothed in robes of righteousness and… here.
I’ve been a mum in missions now for five years. My journey and calling and commitment has been to stay involved in the day to day leadership of our campus while mothering our three children full time as well. While I find it a gift to walk in both capacities, I also find it tremendously sobering. There are ideals I rarely meet and I’m continually learning to be comfortable in the offering I have to give and to place my trust in the One who makes me righteous.