Flawed and Fearless Friday
Spent much time on Pinterest lately? Ever marvel at how blogging photography just gets better and better? Glossy picture-perfect crafts and darlingly-dressed children, gorgeous food, invitingly presented. Sheeny and perfect.
I don’t know about you, but my house doesn’t look like that. My food doesn’t look like that. And unless Rosanne Parket is taking the photos, my kids don’t look like that either. (We save the glossy, sheeny family for our every-other-year family photo shoot.) Real life looks pretty different in my house.
Kathi Lipp write this on her Facebook page a while back…
I may have to give up reading blogs.
Once again I’ve stumbled across a blog that my friend LOVES, and it’s all about a perfect family, who look perfect, who are making their clean eating, sugar-free snacks, (from scratch) as they do EVERY DAY, living on their pseudo-farm, where not only are they all hard workers, but their kids are all gifted. (and there are plenty of Instagram photos to document all this perfect-ness.)It feels like a bunch of mini-Marthas (of the Christian variety) trying to out-perfect each other, and I have to say it concerns me.When all we are seeing is the perfect slice of a person’s life, it can make us, the reader, feel like there is something wrong with us because WE aren’t perfect. But WE are not designed to be perfect.John 16:33
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
Let me see your dirty laundry.
Tell me about the time you messed up as a mom.
Tell me about that cobbler that tasted like actual shoes.
And let me know that you overcome, every day, with Jesus.
I have an idea. Let’s play a game.
I’ll tell you some really dumb stuff I pulled off this week, we’ll all laugh about it, and then you get to tell me what YOU did that makes you gloriously human and flawed. Ready? Go.
- I can’t cook. I mean, I truly cannot cook. I stink at stovetop. I really, really do. And it’s mortifying. I think this has something to do with my peersonality. When there’s more than one pan on the stove, I get all stressed and freaky and start to cry. last night, I had the brillant notion to make Chicken Parmigiana with zucchini noodles. Mmm-hmmm. Yupper. That was SUCH a great idea. I burned the chicken on one side and under-cooked the other. Gabe finally came home and rescued my meal and saved my ego (he didn’t laugh, not once). We all managed to enjoy a pleasant-ish (dinner with little boys never quite reaches the pleasant point, but we make a good attempt. If only one kid falls out of his chair or only one dish gets spilled, I call that a win.)
- The boys were horsing around at bedtime. (There’s an understatement). A la Three Stooges, they made synchronized flying leaps onto the bed at the same exact moment and… clocked heads. I swear you could see bluebirds circling overhead, both kids are holding their noggins and howling, but what does mama, do? I laughed. And kept laughing. I COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING! Between gasps for air, I holler for Gabe to bring ice packs. He showed up and started laughing, too, which made the victims wail all the louder. We tucked our head-trauma victims into bed with an ice pack apiece, still sniggering.It wasn’t one of my finer moments, But I have to give them a reason to need therapy one day, right?
Ok, your turn. What’s your favorite fail this week? Shout it out and celebrate – because it’s our flaws that make us human, and it’s our flaws that let the world see just how amazing Jesus when He’s at work in us.