My own love of reading other blogs, from Beth Moore's to friends of friends to the great Baby Name blog that I am still obsessed with three months after Annie was born and named prompted me to try again. Andy inspired me,too, since he started his blog. We've talked many times about the lessons our kids teach us, especially the applications of parenting to our relationship with God. I want to record some of these, and even more, discuss them, and even more than that, ACTUALLY LEARN THE LESSONS. Am I the only one who feels like they get a new epiphany every week? And then look back and think, "oh, yeah, that was going to change my life, wasn't it?"
I've been thinking lately about discouragement, because I feel like it's moved into my life semi-permanently. Like maybe it keeps a toothbrush and a change of clothes in my heart. I don't notice it constantly, because I'm usually feeding someone (haha) or am similarly occupied. I guess it slips in during quiet moments thinking over my day. In the face of my discouragement about various life-ish things, like Will biting a kid in the nursery or Annie screaming during feedings or piles of dirty laundry or choosing to snooze over getting up for a quiet time YET AGAIN, I've realized I am a recovering success addict.
Unlike in previous seasons of my life, I have no reliable monitor for success anymore. In school, I was addicted to good grades. They brought attention from teachers, praise from my parents, and a general feeling of ease to my life. I felt good when I had a high average, because even if I did somehow bomb a test, I had this great cushion of safety built in against failing. In my work environment, I still had a platform for performance: reviews, raises, promotions. I could measure my success, you get the idea. Even in ministry I can see now that, although I didn't serve God in order to get accolades, I had some manner of measuring success: good relationships with small group kids, an occasional note from a parent.
As a mom of little ones, I have no reliable indicator that I am doing things right. Even if I've got it all together, Will has never given me a gold star or said at bedtime, "Good job, Mommy. A+ today. That was a particularly delicious grilled cheese you made for dinner and you didn't lose your cool when I shared it with the dog. That makes up for the time yesterday when you let me watch an hour of tv so you could do laundry and check your Facebook". I think that is why I love taking Annie to the doctor. If she's gaining weight, then I'm doing something right. Its an indicator of success in nursing her.
I am glad that being a mom has opened my eyes to this "addiction", which has manifested itself as a paralyzing fear of failure and a lack of trust in the Lord. Because, without realizing it, I often put my eggs in the works basket instead of the faith basket... If I don't think I can do a good job at something, I'd just as soon not even try. And speaking as someone who's done her share of diligent note taking during sermons, what that boils down to is religion, not faith.
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