by BooParry | Mar 11, 2021 | Parenting
This was always going to be a special year. The last year of having a preschooler in the house. The last year of being a stay-at-home mom. That was my title for 12 consecutive years. I knew I wanted to savor the last. I wanted to soak up every minute of it. I didn’t want to take anything for granted, and I didn’t want to have any regrets at the end.
A little bit of background. I had three daughters before our son entered the world. My first two girls were only two years apart, and I was neck-deep in the stress and challenges of first-time motherhood when they were little. Yes, we had a lot of fun times, but there were equal amounts of stressful and exhausting times. Right around the time we felt like we were getting into a groove (at ages five and three), our next daughter came by way of adoption. This brought a whole different adventure on its own. Again, a lot of good and challenging times. But I would not call it a peaceful time. A year later, we had our surprise baby, our son. This was the year we moved into our temporary home, as we outgrew our former house. Nine months later, we moved into a different state, away from family, for the first time since we were married. As if that was not a big enough adjustment, a year later I returned to finish grad school, which took up a considerable amount of time for the next few years. Although I was still technically “staying home” with my son, I didn’t have the kind of time to dedicate to him like I did when the girls were little. We were running around to different school events for the girls, or he was left to the care of my work-from-home husband, as I worked on finishing my internship.
Fast forward to 2019. I finally graduated in May. The girls were in full-time school. My son started his last year of preschool, where he attended three mornings a week. I was in the process of obtaining my licensure, which I knew was going to take a few months (and even then, I knew I didn’t want to work full-time until he finished preschool). This was it. This was my last year of having one-on-one time with my son, as well as the last year of being a stay-at-home mom. Finally, finally I felt like I was in a place where I could fully enjoy it. I wasn’t a “newbie” stressed-out mom anymore, and I wasn’t preoccupied by school obligations. All the previous years I couldn’t dedicate to him like I wanted to, this year was going to make up for it. This year was going to be special…and so it was.
I savored it. I captured so much of it on camera. I treasured both the special outings and the mundane everyday routines. Picking him up from preschool and seeing him running towards me was the highlight of my day. He was my helper for grocery shopping. We are hardcore ALDI shoppers, and his job was to transfer our reusable bags to the counter while I paid the cashier. He loved to hear that we were going to Publix, which meant he would get a free cookie. We played “don’t touch the lines” at every parking lot. We enjoyed occasional treats like donuts and Cinnabon’s. We explored Children’s Museums, libraries, and local parks. My favorite was going to Menkoi noodles for a lunch date. His favorite was going to the mall. He enjoyed going to the play area, where he would occasionally run into his preschool friend. I used my coupons (from the girls’ school fundraiser) to buy pretzels and smoothies for us to enjoy. To this day, that is one of his favorite memories. “Mommy, do you remember when we would go to the mall?”
I passed my licensure test in October. The holidays got busy. I went on my 40th birthday trip with my girlfriends to NOLA. Christmas break came and went. In January, we were getting back into the swing of things, but we also had a fun cruise planned for the family at end of the month. In February, there were some weather days and sick days that messed with our routine. I was busy training for my first half-marathon. Still, my son and I squeezed in a trip to the Children’s Museum one rainy day in February, not knowing it was going to be our last.
March came. Suddenly, it hit me. I only have a couple of months left. I was quickly and fully back on the mode of “must capture and savor every moment!” Time was limited; the end was near. Weird rumors started flying around the second week of March. A friend told me I needed to go to Costco to stock up, because a 14-day quarantine of the county may be coming. I didn’t even know what that meant, or what it would look like. My older two girls and I were getting ready to go to Florida for spring break, as soon as they came home from school on Friday. By Friday morning, we heard that Florida theme parks will be closing, and we decided to cancel our Florida trip. I remember picking my son up from preschool that Friday at 12:30. I was the last parent to pick him up (which was not unusual). He had his Amazing Athletes program that day, so he was waiting in the lobby with his coach. He jumped up when he saw me, and when I opened the door, he excitedly shouted “Mommy!” with his arms wide open. I will never forget that. Something told me in that moment, could this be the last? I took him to Chick-fil-A for lunch. The playground area was closed. There were college students in the nearby table talking about their campus being closed for two weeks. I looked at my son across the table, who was enjoying his chicken nuggets without a care in the world. Again, that uneasy feeling struck me: could this be the last?
We all know what happened next. Schools closed, and my other kids came home…for two weeks initially. I tried to maintain hope. I told myself I still had April and some of May. By end of March, we all knew that wasn’t going to be. By mid-April, I knew that hope was lost. We were robbed…that’s how I would describe it. We were robbed of the last few months we were supposed to have together. I began to grieve. I allowed my heart to grieve…and I’m still grieving. Schools reopened in the fall, and my son started kindergarten. I recently went to ALDI and realized that I have to transfer the reusable bags myself to the counter. My heart grieved. I went to a local park for a walk, and I realized that I was alone. I saw the same garden that we looked at a year ago, and I remembered how excited he was to see all the butterflies. My heart grieved. I went to have lunch with a friend, and I saw a mom come in with her small daughter, asking for a table for two. I thought to myself: a lunch date. And my heart grieved. Again.
Lately I’m astonished when I realize how much I don’t know about my son’s day. I try to ask him about school, but he gives me very little details. With so many activities going on among the six of us, some days I realize I hadn’t seen him for most of the day. As I tuck him in at night, I tell him how much I missed him, and I tell him about what I did that made me remember the time we had together. He hugs me tight and tells me, “I want to go to the mall with you.”
I feel the tears well up and I whisper, “Me too, Buddy…me too.”
by BooParry | Jan 25, 2018 | #MomLife, Parenting, Series
Photo by Bonnie Kittle on Unsplash
It seems to come so easily and instantly for other moms…the “warm and fuzzy” feelings.
I’ve heard other moms describe the feeling in the following ways:
“It’s like my heart jumped out of my body and started walking around.”
“The feeling I have for my child…I never knew I was capable of having so much love for another human being. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.”
“When I think about how much I love my child, I’m finally able to understand God’s great love for me.”
They all sound so…blissful. So motherly.
Let me give it to you straight: I just didn’t have it when my firstborn arrived. Of course, I loved my child. But it wasn’t this overwhelming, never-felt-like-this-before, I-love-you-so-much-I-can’t-stand-it kind of love. It was more like…I love you because you’re my child. God gave you to me as my child, and I am your mother. We are off to a really rough start. This was not what I expected at all. But we are in this for the long haul. Let’s keep learning and growing, together.
Far from all that’s said in a Hallmark card.
Feelings of guilt started to creep in…what is wrong with me? The other moms seem to have this natural affection instantly, but I don’t. Am I a bad mother?
I then had another daughter. This time we were off to a much better start, but I still didn’t get to experience all the warm and fuzzy maternal relationship with her (mainly because I was so overwhelmed with my strong-willed toddler).
I then had another daughter (yes, there is a theme). Another difficult start, another shattering of my expectations (I will write more on this later). This motherhood journey was going in the direction that’s opposite of what I was hoping for. It’s going from hard to harder. Again, the same questions arose, only this time more intensely. What is wrong with me? I must be a bad mother.
I then had a son (notice the change in theme). What do you know – I finally had it. All of it. The warm and fuzzy feelings. The instant, over-the-top affection. Everything all the other moms quoted and more. My heart was completely captured by this tiny creature. I didn’t want to blink my eyes and miss one moment. Three years later, I am still captivated by him. I love experiencing every new stage with him. I don’t think I could love him any more, yet as he grows older I love him more. It’s so natural and it’s just…there.
I believe there was a mixture of factors involved. Obviously, he’s a different gender. In my humanity, I think I naturally have a softer spot for the opposite sex. He’s also my last baby. Last time I had a newborn baby before him was five years prior (our third daughter came by way of adoption when she was 2), and as I already mentioned, I was overwhelmed with my firstborn toddler at the time. With my son, I was a seasoned mom, my girls were older, and I was actually able to relax and enjoy the baby stage. Instead of stressing about little things like I did with my first, I was able to just soak in the blessings.
Here’s what I learned from my contrasting experiences: The warm and fuzzy feelings don’t make you a good mom, and the lack of those feelings doesn’t make you a bad mom. It’s just dumb luck if you have it or you don’t (well, I know God’s hand is involved in all, but you know what I’m trying to say). And it can easily vary from one child to the other.
How do I know this? Because I was far from being a good mom when my son came. In fact, it was a season when I felt absolute worst as a mother. Then, in His infinite grace, God chose to bless me with these motherly feelings when my son came. I had zero part in it.
So I hope this encourages some moms who may be experiencing the disappointment (and the guilt) I felt with my first and third. Every motherhood journey is different (even with multiple children in the same family). With my girls, the affectionate feelings are building over time, brick by brick. With my son, it was instant. That’s just how God saw fit that it should go; I had no control. God has a unique design and purpose for every mother-child relationship. I have four very different relationships with my children, and each one is constantly evolving.
Back to my firstborn. Lately, we have the best conversations at night. They’re often very heartfelt and deep. Yesterday we had a rough interaction. We both did/said things to each other that we regretted. At night, we apologized to each other, and it was so real. We both knew it, we both felt it, and we both expressed it. It was a true soul connection. I love that. I’m able to appreciate it more, because our relationship took (and still takes) a lot of work. But it’s so worth it. She amazes me in so many ways. I don’t know anyone like her…and even though she often drives me crazy, I can’t wait to see all that God will unfold in her life. There are still thorns involved, but our relationship is starting to bud in a beautiful way. I have grown so much as a mom because of her…and we will continue to grow, together. And this shared growing experience…it’s something unique about our relationship that is not shared with the other children. No one can take this away from us.
God gives us emotions for many purposes – simply to enjoy, to grow closer to Him and one another, to cause us to act, etc. But love is never just about a feeling.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.
–1 Corinthians 13:7
If it said, “Love is having the most affectionate feeling,” I definitely would have given myself a big fat “F” on the subject of loving my child.
But this – never giving up, never losing faith, being hopeful, and enduring through every circumstance – this, my love for them can do.
by BooParry | Jun 6, 2017 | FaithJourney, Parenting
I need REAL and I need DEEP.
I’m talking about friendships. I’m talking about interactions with other people.
Surface level conversations (or “small talks”) wear me out…and to be honest, they annoy me. Yet, in this season of life, I find myself surrounded by them.
I’ve discovered that finding REAL and DEEP has been harder in this season of being a stay-at-home mom. The only place where it was easy to find REAL and DEEP connection in this season was when I was in a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group a while back. Of course, the obvious reason why it’s hard is because I have a lot less interaction with the outside world as a stay-at-home mom. By default I often turn to social media to fill the need to connect. Welcome to the world of superficial interactions, comparisons, and…let’s call it what it is…bragging (I find myself doing it too). Now, I know that it’s not always about those things. There are a lot of good and honest interactions happening too. But sometimes, even with all the right intentions from those who post, those who read/view the posts are left with feelings of insecurity, “not good enough,” and loneliness.
It doesn’t just happen in the online world. In this season of being a mom to young kids, often times we can only make small talks with other adults while we try to keep track of our kids. This creates an atmosphere for conversations to stay at a superficial level. Then there’s the Southern culture that I’ve been introduced to in the last two years. “Superficial” seems to be intricately woven into the social structure of this culture. And by that, I don’t always mean fake. I mean that it can be difficult to go past the surface level of talking about kids’ birthday parties and the latest idea we found on Pinterest.
I need Deeper.
I need Authenticity.
I’m wired for heart-to-heart connection…and when you think about it, aren’t we all?
In addition to the challenge of getting past the superficial, there are the challenges of comparisons (which seems to be never ending for moms) and cliques. Yes, even in the adult world, there are still cliques that form, often unintentionally. It’s our natural tendency to stick to people we know and to stay in the circle, instead of taking the risk of befriending someone new.
Book clubs meet, coffees are sipped, stores are shopped, play dates had, and someone is inevitably left out. As an adult, I anticipated friendships would become easier for me, but I’ve found that they can be even more difficult. There are more schedules to judge, feelings and fears are more deep rooted, intentions more difficult to interpret, and comparisons are easier to make.
–Anna Rendell, Craving Connection
SO. TRUE.
Last month (a few months ago now), I had an opportunity to authentically share from my heart, every day, for five days. It was in a class called Group Counseling (a class that teaches future counselors how to lead a counseling group). During the week we took on the “leader” role only once, but we took on the “group member” role every day in the same group.
It was such a meaningful experience for me for 3 main reasons:
- We bypassed the superficial stage. As you can imagine from a group of women all wanting to be counselors, the content of what we shared went from superficial to deep…fast. We shared our raw feelings and thoughts, often involving tears, for five days. There was no pretense. Authentic connections were made. It was so refreshing.
- There was no comparison. We were all equals in that group, and every person’s story mattered. The intensity of the hardships varied, but we valued each feeling that was shared. Nobody was more important than the other. It was the opposite of most social interactions we find ourselves in, of who gets the most “likes,” who is more fun to be with, who has a more popular or significant status, etc. When there is no comparison, every person feels valued and accepted.
- I was “in my zone.” I realized more than ever, that this is “my thing.” Some people are good at baking, some at interior decorating, some at teaching children. This is what I’m good at. Being real and going deep. Listening and understanding. Engaging in connections that go beyond the surface level. This was a satisfying experience for me, especially since I don’t feel like I’m “in my zone” often as a stay-at-home mom.
Transparency. Vulnerability. Authenticity. Connection. It was all there. So when it was time for the class to end…I cried. They were sad tears of not wanting to leave. I mourned for a few days, actually.
I long to find this type of connection in my everyday life, in this current season. I’ve been blessed to have several authentic friendships for most of my teen and adult life. It’s been a little more challenging for me since we moved to Greenville (although there are a couple of friendships that I feel are at the beginning stage of authenticity). It’s been on my mind a lot since I returned from my class. Through a friend’s recommendation, I bought two books on this topic: Never Unfriended and Craving Connection. I look forward to learning and discovering more about how I can establish this type of connection, with God’s guidance and help.
Another friend told me about a group study curriculum called Stuck, and how it leads the participants to go deep…fast. Hello? Sign me up, please! I am praying about possibly hosting this group at my house.
I also need to continue nurturing the long-distance, lifelong friendships that I do have. Life gets so busy for all of us. But I need REAL and DEEP connections. I love that we live in the generation of FaceTime and Skype. I have been blessed with some incredible lifelong friends, and no matter how much time has passed since our last talk, I know that we can get REAL and DEEP as soon as we pick up the phone again. I need to take advantage of these connections more.
However way it unfolds, I know that authentic connection is what I need…really, what we all need. I need REAL. I need DEEP. I need to know and be known. I need to love and be loved. Yes, I have my husband, but I also desperately need deep connection with other women. This quote sums it up so well.
To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.
–Timothy Keller
by BooParry | May 4, 2016 | #MomLife, Key, Parenting, Series
It came out of nowhere. As it usually does. After eight years of this, you’d think we wouldn’t be so shocked or be at our wits’ end. But as she grows older, these “episodes” have become few and far between, so when she does have one, it has a way of catching us off guard.
Most of you have heard us describe her as “strong-willed.” It’s been who she is since Day 1. There really is no simple way to describe it. Except that it’s not normal. Our second-born daughter can get pretty dramatic when she’s upset. But our oldest…she brings in this level of determination that is just not normal for a child. Somehow, during these episodes, she can usually manage to get our emotions and nerves all worked up and keep us engaged in her battle way longer than we need to be.
All of these battles have helped us to grow along with her. Through the countless episodes we have experienced with her in the last eight years, we have discovered that there are two main ingredients that work in parenting a strong-willed child (or any child for that matter): consistency and prayer.
Here’s how it went down tonight.
She normally asks to get a drink of water before bed. We usually say yes. This particular night, she had gotten a drink of water in between the time I had said good-night to her and she was waiting for Allan to come in to say good-night. After she finished her routine with Allan, she asked to go get another drink of water. He said no, because she already had a drink. That was it. After a good day (or even good few months of no major episodes), in a simple matter over a sip of water, she decided to put up her battle sign. This was the hill she was going to die on. And folks, I don’t think I’m exaggerating much when I say that she really is prepared to win or die in these battles.
After Allan gave his answer, he closed her bedroom door.
The pounding started. The kicking and banging started. They kept going on. And on. And on. And on.
After about 20 minutes, I went in. I calmly told her this behavior was not acceptable. I reminded her of the privileges she will lose if she continues in this behavior. In these situations, I quickly need to choose what I can take away that would motivate her enough to end the battle. During her preschool years, it was a privilege to social outings, such as playdates, birthday parties, and Mimi’s house. In recent years it’s been a privilege to socialize with anyone, meaning she had to spend a lot of time in her room by herself. This time, something else came to my mind quickly. She had never been one to be addicted to electronics, until this past week. She has been obsessed over a game called Minecraft in her new Kindle. She’s been constantly asking for permission to play the game. I told her that she will lose the privilege of her electronics if she continues to throw these fits. However, I made the mistake of not making it “clear cut” enough for her before I left the room. How much was considered a fit? How much longer did I mean when I said, “If you continue to throw a fit”? You’d think I’d be experienced enough by now to make such amateur mistakes!
She stopped the pounding and the kicking. She began the “yelling under the door crack” method. “YOU ARE MEAN!! MOMMY, YOU ARE SO MEAN!” “MOMMY, WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO MEEEEEE!?????” All the while, I can hear her baby brother babbling in his room next door (I mean, I wonder what’s keeping him up?).
Allan decided to give it a shot. He tried the “Let’s try to reason with her and help to calm her down” option. This method had worked about a handful of times out of the billion battles we’ve experienced with her. So…the odds were against him, but he gave it his best shot. “Peanut, can you tell me why you are being so upset over a sip of water?” “I’m thirsty! I need a drink of water!” “Peanut, you are going to be okay. You can have some water tomorrow morning.” “You always say tomorrow!” “No, I usually let you go get a drink of water. Don’t I usually let you get a drink of water? Just tonight, you had already gotten a sip two minutes before you asked. So the answer was no. You HAVE to be OK with that answer.” “But I’m thirsty! I’m thirsty! I’m thirsty!” “Peanut, let’s have self-control. Come on, you can do it. Let’s show self-control.” “I can’t! I’m thirsty! I can’t!!” “Peanut, you know what happens when you keep throwing fits. You lose privileges.” “NO! I don’t want to lose privileges! And I want a drink of water, because I’m thirsty!” She’s shouting as she’s wailing and flopping her body all over the place at the same time. It’s quite a sight to watch an 8-year-old throw a tantrum.
There were moments in there when she seemed to calm down a bit…only to begin another round. So after few repeats of the above conversation, Allan said good-night and walked out. At this point I knew that she was just wanting to keep either of us engaged. Because in her mind, if we were still engaged, then the battle was not over yet.
What baffles me every time is this: in all of eight years we’ve had with her, we have NEVER – not even once – EVER given in to her demand after she has thrown a fit like this. Never. Yet she still chooses to give everything she’s got to try to win the battle. She is a true warrior.
After Allan left the room, she started screaming LOUDER under the door crack. “DADDDYYY!! DAAAAADDDDDYYYY!!!” This is her desperation cry to keep us engaged in the battle. “The room is dark and I need someone in here!” (I knew she was desperate, because she started to shout out anything she could think of, that had nothing to do with the topic at hand). “I’m trying but I CAN’T (she means having self-control).” “I need help!!! I NEED HELP, DAAAAADDDDDYYY!!!!”
It was late, the house was quiet apart from her screaming voice, the other kids were trying to sleep…and this was about the time when Allan and I started questioning our own sanity. Did we go wrong somewhere? Is there something seriously wrong with our child?
Then I remembered to pray. I often get so caught up in the heat of the moment (I know I can’t blame it all on her, but she really has a way of messing with your emotions) that I forget the most important thing. My lifeline. Because without Him, I can promise you that we wouldn’t have made it for eight years. One of us would have lost our sanity by now. We certainly wouldn’t have been able to experience the kind of peace we have in our home for the majority of the time.
I sent out a quick popcorn prayer: “God, I need YOUR wisdom.”
I walked into her room as she was shouting, “I NEED HEEEELLLPPP!!!!” I calmly but firmly told her, “I’m here to help you, and this is how I’m helping you. You lost two days of electronics so far because of the way you behaved.” She began to blow up – this has always been her method – whenever I tell her what she’d lost, she counterattacks by repeating “I don’t want to lose (whatever I just said, in this case 2 days)! I don’t want to lose ____ !!” But before she had a chance to get too out of control, I grabbed her by both arms, looked at her in the eyes and said, “Peanut, it’s already done. Now, you can lose FOUR days if I have to come in here again because you are shouting, banging, or making any kind of loud noise. It’s up to you. But you WILL lose 4 days if I need to come back in. Do you understand me?” She said yes through her fits. I spelled it out clearly for her this time. She knew exactly what she would be losing and she knew exactly what behavior would cause her to lose it. She still threw herself around saying she didn’t want to lose (the first) 2 days, etc. But I kept talking over her cries. “Peanut, I’m going to help you into bed now. I’m going to pray for you.” As she continued to wail, I began to pray for God to fill her with His PEACE. I prayed for her to feel His presence and love. I prayed that He would help her to gain self-control and that she would trust Him to do so. I prayed in the powerful name of Jesus.
She was still wailing as I was leaving the room, so I made the condition very clear to her again. I made sure to get a response from her that she understood me. Then I closed the door. She cried out for a few more seconds. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. COMPLETELY stopped. She had finally surrendered.
I came downstairs. Of course, the first question Allan asked was, “How did you get her to stop??”
Consistency and Prayer.
When she chooses a battle, she WILL keep fighting, with ALL that she’s got. That’s who she is. She will not stop…until she finally determines that the consequences of continuing to fight sting her more deeply than letting go of her will to win. We have to remember to SPELL out the boundaries and consequences as CLEARLY as possible. We then have to be consistent. One of the biggest rewards that came out of all the battles during her early years was this: She 100% believes us now, every time, when we spell out the consequences that will take place. What we say WILL happen if the line is crossed. We’ve had to consistently set firm boundaries for her and help her understand that she will not win this kind of battle, in this way.
I also believe with my whole heart, that divine intervention is always necessary for her to finally calm down and put up her white flag of surrender. When she’s right in the middle of a heated battle, there were many times it seemed as though nothing would work to calm her down. It felt like that tonight. Allan and I were both exhausted. Then two simple prayers – both my popcorn prayer asking for wisdom and praying over her for peace as she wailed – helped to bring an end to this battle. Thank you, God!!
2 Afterthoughts:
- I checked on her a little while later that night. She was still awake but was lying on the floor with her pillow, blanket, and stuffed animals. I knew that she was trying to make some sort of a point, but I let it go as the battle was never about “staying in bed.” I told her that I was proud of her for gaining self-control. I told her that I loved her and always will, no matter what. About an hour later, Allan went in and carried her sleeping body to her bed. In the morning, we saw that she had gotten out of bed again and slept on the floor. This girl!
- As it usually happens on the day after a battle, she was coming over to both Allan and me frequently the next morning, hugging us and using her sweet voice to say, “Daddddy! Mommmy!!!” We know that this is her way of making restoration.
Oh, Peanut, it has been an adventure since Day 1 and it continues to be. You keep us on our toes. One thing I look forward to the most: seeing what incredible plans God has in store for you as a strong-willed adult, a force to be reckoned with. Watch out, world!
by BooParry | Feb 10, 2016 | #Undone, Books, FaithJourney, Key, Series
In the last few years, ever since my “undone” process began, my perception of what a holy life looks like has changed quite significantly. Somewhere over the course of my life as a perfectionist, I had bought into the idea that living a holy life for me means being a good Christian wife and mother (all the time) and having it all together. Now, I would never admit that’s what I believed. In fact, I don’t even know if I knew that’s what I believed. If the topic came up, I would say, “Of course nobody is perfect. Everybody makes mistakes. We all will fail at perfection. Nobody has it all together.” Yet, I never truly allowed this kind of grace to apply to my own life. I was blind to the security blanket I had wrapped myself around my whole life, a blanket that gave the impression to others that I’m a good, kind, and even a holy person who has everything under control. “A+” was what I always aimed for during my school years, and I always achieved it. I was aiming for the same in my adult life (particularly in marriage and parenthood), and I thought I was achieving it. A loving God who wanted me to live the abundant, real life He intended for me had no choice but to yank the security blanket off of me. Only then could I finally face my distorted views, replace them with His truth, and begin the road of recovery.
Michele* touched a lot on perfectionism in chapters 18 through 21. Here are some key points I found to be helpful for a recovering perfectionist like myself:
Embrace the imperfections, the failures, the hurts, and not having it all-together. God must have known before He created Adam that he was going to sin. But He chose to create him anyway. I’m not a theology expert by any means, but I believe I see a glimpse of God’s heart in this process. He longed for a relationship with us more than what we can do for Him. He desired the kind of intimacy that can only come from walking with us through our messy, painful, mistake-filled life. I’m not sure if this kind of intimacy would have been possible if all of humanity managed to live a perfect, obedient, happy life. Michele said it so well: “only a marred life gives birth to the most beautiful redemption.” She also said part of the embracing is realizing that this is a “rough-draft life.” We must learn to accept that we won’t always get it right the first time and forgive ourselves when we get it wrong. I would also add that in this embracing imperfection process, a perfectionist should look back on our life and see if there is a past wound to be dealt with that caused us to become perfectionists (I will write more on this later).
Embrace the process of recovery rather than focusing on the end result. For a perfectionist, even after we realize our need to recover from perfectionism, we tend to look at this recovery process as another thing we have to ace and we become anxious for the day we achieve it. I chuckle as I write this; do you see how hopeless we are? I like what Michele’s counselor said to her: “Maybe you’re not supposed to manage all this. Maybe, instead, you’re supposed to experience it. Walk through it. Do the best you can.” As I have been going through my “undone” season, I have come to learn that recovery, healing, wholeness, and even holiness, are found in bits and pieces during the process, rather than as the end result. It’s hard for a perfectionist to understand this, because the process is so messy and untidy and unpredictable; all the adjectives we hate. Michele used a metaphor of standing too close to an impressionist painting. Everything looks messy and undone from up close. But as we step farther back, we begin to see the unexpected beauty of the whole picture. “Though appearing undone, it hints that imperfection could turn into the makings of an incredible story.” But it takes time for the whole story to unfold, for the masterpiece to be completed. Michele suggested, “Allow yourself to see beyond the chaos to the beautiful story taking shape.”
Realize that we cannot do it alone. Keep our eyes on the Master. So by now, a perfectionist has learned that we need to recover from perfectionism and that it takes time. Even after we’ve come this far, somewhere in the hidden parts of our belief system, we feel that we need to conquer this process on our own. Michele described it this way: “Alarmed by my vast army, I raised my shield and wielded my sword, assuming all responsibility for victory.” Perfectionists are very prideful and we hate to admit that we can’t do it on our own. Michele brought up the example of the disciples panicking in the storm while Jesus slept. He asked them, “Where is your faith?” I agree with Michele that even when I refuse to admit it, my faith is usually placed in myself. She gave a great example of a time she experienced panic attack while scuba diving. When her scuba master came to help, and when she saw in his eyes that he was not going to let her go, she began to transition from panic to peace.
I had to die to the self-sufficiency and arrogance that had fooled me into thinking I could do all, be all, without consequence. That I could anchor myself to my own boat and not pay the price. Thank God. He looked me in the eye, and he refused to let me go.
-Michele Cushatt, Undone
Lean to express our feelings and needs. Seek and accept help. Find a support community. It’s true that God is the One who will carry us on this road to recovery. But on the journey, He will use other people to help us along. It’s obvious that God created us for relationships and that we are not mean to do life alone. Michele said, “Laying down my independence began with saying it out loud: admitting a need and asking for help.” We also need one another for accountability. We need a safe place where we can express our faults and weaknesses, find grace, and be encouraged.
So I come back to the question: what does a holy life look like? The most valuable life lessons I learned didn’t come from those who have it all together (or appear to), who know all the right Bible verses, and who always do the right thing. I have learned the most from those who have walked through ugly messes, unimaginable pain, and big mistakes. So why is it that we try so hard to be like the first kind?
So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold – though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.
–1 Peter 1:6-7 New Living Translation
This is what a holy life looks like. Hanging onto and growing in our faith through real, genuine, undone moments of everyday life. It’s not going to look neat and tidy and perfect. It looks messy and even disastrous when we are too close to the picture. But as we step back and gain a new perspective, we will begin to see what a masterpiece we are creating with Him, our Artist and our Master.
What Michele reminded me is that I must let go of my idea of what the painting is supposed to look like. Trust my Artist through the messy, undone moments. Keep my eyes on the Master, who promises to never let me go. One day, I will see how every stroke (both tidy and untidy ones) was used to create a complete, beautiful, holy masterpiece.
*This is part of a series of posts I’m writing about a book by Michele Cushatt called Undone. This was the final post on the book, reflecting on chapters 18 to 21.
by BooParry | Nov 20, 2015 | #MomLife, #Undone, Books, Parenting, Series
Motherhood is more than posed and frameable moments.
It’s not the sum of blissful images filling the pages of a scrapbook. A mother is made in the difficult, challenging, and very real crises that never make it to a page. It’s choosing to love when you’d rather run away. Being a mother is becoming an expert at saying, “I’m sorry,” “I forgive you,” and “I love you,” as many times as necessary. And teaching your children to do the same.
It involved more hard work and less glamour than I’d dreamed once upon a time.
-Michele Cushatt, Undone*
Wow. So much truth here. If you’re not a mom yet, just know that you’ll come to realize this truth in time. The journey of motherhood. Similar to marriage, it’s not quite what you expected it to be when you were dreaming of it “once upon a time.”
Blissful. That’s the one word I would have chosen, before I became a mom, of how I expected motherhood to be like. All I have to say to that me is this: haha.
Here are a few of the many sandcastles/myths I’ve had to (or I’m still learning to) smash along the way, on my journey of motherhood so far.
Sandcastle #1: Motherhood will make me happy. Now, of course, there will be a lot of happy moments that your children will bring when you’re a mother. As well as a lot of frustrating moments, challenging moments, annoying moments, sad moments, etc. What I’ve had to learn is this. Truth: I cannot make my children responsible for my emotions. Their job is not to make me happy. Their job is to be children. My job is to parent them in love. It’s my job to look out for their best interest; it is not their job to look out for mine. I am the adult. When they do things that frustrate/annoy/inconvenience me, my natural inclination is to react, to take it out on them, and to have them pay for making me feel this way. One of the hardest things as a parent is to keep my own feelings in check. Particularly in times of discipline, I have to remember to ask myself, “Is this for their best interest, or am I reacting from my own emotions?” Oh man, this is so incredibly hard to keep in check, especially in the heat of the moment. So many popcorn prayers are necessary in these moments: God help me!
Sandcastle #2: The main purpose of motherhood is to help my children grow. Of course, a huge chunk of motherhood is about helping my children grow. But what I’ve come to realize in the last 8 years of parenting is, Truth: I’m the one who is challenged to grow the most. Motherhood exposes so much of my own shortcomings, such as anger issues, impatience, lack of self-control, weaknesses, and inadequacies. Motherhood gives me so many opportunities – daily – to grow in these areas, as I learn to rely on God and His strength more and more. It’s not about building a trophy of “look what a good mom I am.” Like Michele said, it’s more hard work and less glamour. It’s more about growing than displaying. It’s a very humbling journey. But come to think of it, how in the world did we ever think we had it figured out at the start of this journey, when we had never experienced being a mom before? Of course it would be about growing. Somehow, parenting is one area we tend to think we automatically become experts at from the start. How wrong were we!
Sandcastle #3: Conflicts and challenges reflect badly on me as a parent. I was always a well-behaved child, so I expected to have well-behaved children. I thought I would coast through motherhood like I coasted through all my years of school: straight A’s. Yeah, not quite. My firstborn came out of the gates letting me know that she will not fit into any type of a box. As a baby, she was fussy. As a toddler, she threw ridiculous tantrums. As a preschooler, she was defiant. As a human being, she was (is) strong-willed like no other. She shattered my expectation of having a well-behaved child that is admired by all other parents. Some of it may be a cultural thing, but it was easy for me to be embarrassed by her bad behavior. I automatically assumed that people would see her tantrums and rate me as a bad mother. As I had more children, and as I encountered children from other families, I quickly learned that children come in all types of temperaments and personalities. Some are naturally easy-going and obedient; some are naturally strong-willed and defiant. It is very rare to have a child who is well-behaved all the time. During one of Focus on the Family broadcasts, one of the speakers said something so profound and true (I’m paraphrasing): “You shouldn’t be embarrassed when your child misbehaves. They are children; they will do that. You should be embarrassed as a parent if you fail to deal with their misbehavior.” Conflicts and challenges are part of motherhood, they just are. Truth: Conflicts and challenges are opportunities for growth, both for the parent and the child. If my child behaved well all the time, and if there was no conflict or challenge, I may be viewed as a great mother by others. But in reality, no growth is taking place. No lesson is being taught. How I handle conflicts and challenges as a mother speaks more volume than having a child who is well-behaved all the time.
So there you have it. Some of the misconceptions I had about motherhood that I had to smash. In closing, I’d like to bring attention to how Michele ended this chapter. When her stepson was asked to say one thing he loves about her, he said that he knows she always loves him, no matter what. She wrote, “In all my mothering failings, I’d managed to get one thing right. Love. And it mattered most of all.”
Motherhood is tough. We will make many mistakes. But moms, let’s get this one thing right: love.
*This is part of a series of posts I’m writing about a book by Michele Cushatt called Undone. I will write about what God is having me reflect on after each chapter. You can just read my posts, or you can join the online book club I started. Read my Invite post and Getting Started post to find out more about the book club.
This post was reflecting on Chapters 9 and 10.
Discussion Questions for the book club:
-What misconceptions did you have about motherhood before you became a mom? If you are not a mom, what misconceptions do you think you have about motherhood? What kind of mother do you think you will be?
