Our kids don't always enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done. It's easy for me to expect them to keep their room neat and clean just because it feels good and it safe-guards their belongings. A neat room nearly eliminates the the possibility of losing treasures and it's just...restful. It feels safe. It's right. But kids just don't feel all that. Learning to be faithful in keeping their room clean is a process. And they're quick to let me know they might remember to be faithful a little better if there was a reward at the end of the day.

Just like us...right?

Jesus has been teaching me a lot about being faithful recently. A lot.

And, like my kids, I find myself wanting to barter a bit when He calls me to all-out faithfulness.

I say, "Jesus, I have been faithful to You. Remember my faith through our first adoption, when everything looked impossible? Remember my faith when Virgil had cancer? Remember my faith through our second adoption? What about all the faith I poured out a year ago when TWO adoption failed? And have you seen my faith in the path You've called us to walk now?

And Jesus says, "I have been faithful. You have only walked in the path I created for you. I have never let you, or forsaken you. I have always had a purpose. I have never ceased to call you deeper, so you learn to rely more fully on Me."

​You blow your temper again and this time you're ready to give up. You can't change. You've read every self-help book and blog you can find, but your temper cannot be changed.

The tears of despair roll down your cheeks, because this is not the kind of mom you want your kids to remember. You feel the hope draining out of your body and, just like many other moms in your shoes, you begin to tell yourself lies.

​Everyone around me is so...gifted. It seems like everyone can paint watercolors, has great photography skills, sounds like Mozart on the piano, all while doing crafts with their kids and making their house look like all the pins from Pinterest.

It's enough to make any Mom feel like God must have passed her over in the gift department. I mean, most days I'm happy when I get my 2 loads of laundry washed, dried and folded, keep the dishes washed up and can spend some time reading or being outside with the kids. (Which, by the way, is exactly enough for one day.)

But some days I let discontentment get a hold of my heart and I, probably like you, start saying things that are less that flattering.

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There are season of life that burst on us like a thunderclap, dripping with fear and worry. Some days we manage to get an umbrella up to protect us from the torrent, but some days we become tired of keeping our guard up, and we begin to let anxiety seep into our souls. Fear ripples our thinking, and we find ourselves unsettled and worried about how things may turn out. We begin a narrative in our minds, that sounds a little like this:

"What if life as we know it is over?"

"What if I lose my job?"

"I'm afraid my kid's future is at risk."

"I don't have what it takes to make it through this."
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"Fear is a normal response to my situation. I can't help it!"

"What if we run out of toilet paper?" (Sorry, couldn't help it)