Knowing All of the Answers

I remember when I was young (yes, a veeeerrrryyyyyy long time ago), I thought my parents had all of the answers.  They knew why the sky was blue.  The knew what we were having for dinner.  They knew why my little sister was so annoying.  They knew how Santa could travel the earth in one night.  They knew the going rate the tooth fairy paid for a front tooth vs a molar.  They knew everything.  They were the smartest people on earth.

I decided then (with the wisdom of a child) that 30 was the magic age.  When I turned 30, I would know all of the answers.  I would be wise, beautiful, confident, and successful.  When I was 30, my world would be perfect.

Guess what?  I was wrong.

Now, on the other side of 40, I admit that not only do I NOT have all of the answers, I don't even know where to look for most of them.  Some answers just can't be found in the dictionary, or in encyclopedias (yes, I am that old), or even *gasp*shudder* on the internet.

I'm not perfect.  I'm not even close.  I'm not smart.  I'm not beautiful.  I'm not confident.  I still feel insecure and afraid.  I am still as socially awkward now as I was in high school (though, Thank You, God, for helping me to survive That Horror!).  I still have trouble remembering that sometimes it is best to remain quiet.  I still can't think of the "right" thing to say in difficult situations.  I can't kiss my kids boo-boos better and I can't protect them from life's little agonies.  I can't even comfort my husband when life throws him a curve.  I can't take care of my mother like I wish I could.  I feel completely inadequate as a Daughter, as a Wife, as Mother, even as a Woman.

But sometimes, I get close to being perfect.  I can change light bulbs for my mother and change the sheets on her bed.  I can rock my little boy to sleep sometimes even at the age of 5. I can still tell my boys how proud I am of them and all they accomplish.  I can hold my husband's hand, look him in the eye and honestly tell him that I love him, and that I believe in him, and know that he believes me even if he doesn't believe in himself.

So while, I'm still not wise, or beautiful, or confident, I think I am successful.  I'm happy with my life.  I don't have a high-powered job and money is still tight, but I don't need those things.  I have a husband I love that loves me, and my kids still (mostly) think I'm perfect.  Those are the criteria by which I judge my success.  And when I feel inadequate and awkward and helpless, I try to remember to remind myself of those things.  Some days I'm more successful than others, but sometimes making the effort is all that matters.

SuperMom & SuperWife or SuperWoman

"A real woman always keeps her house clean & organized, the laundry basket is always empty. She's always well dressed, hair done. She never swears, she behaves gracefully in all situations & all circumstances. She has more than enough patience to take care of her family, always has a smile on her lips, & a kind word for everyone. Post this as your status if you, too, have just realized that you might be a man."


I saw this on FaceBook the other day and thought it was so funny (and true) that I put it as my status to give other ladies a few giggles, too.  And it worked GREAT!  Most women can really relate to this.  There is always SO MUCH to do that it rarely (if ever) actually is all completed at the same time.  Seriously, how many women have the housework all done, the house looking immaculate, dinner on the table, and a smile perpetually on their face?  Let's face it.  June Cleaver we are NOT.


Then my husband ruined all of our fun with one comment.  "Someone pointed out to me that this woman is straight out of Proverbs. Kinda puts a different light on it huh?"  


My first thought was, "Spoilsport!"  


My second thought was, "OH GREAT!  One more way I'm failing God."  


I don't know about y'all, but I constantly feel like a failure.  To my husband, to my kids, to my boss, to my self, and to God.  It's a rare day when I DON'T feel ineffectual, inadequate, unworthy, and/or like a major screw up.  We go to church, we believe (at least I hope you do), we have faith (even though we sometime struggle with this), but in the end, how many of us Really Believe we are succeeding at being what God wants us to be.


"I Know I'm SOMEBODY, 'cause God don't make no junk!"  Remember that?  I do.  It was great when I was a kid, but now as an adult, it's a little harder.  On the surface, I say, well of course He doesn't.  But then I apply that statement to myself, and .......Whoops!  What. Have.  I.  Done?!?  Anybody else ever feel that way?


I'm divided.  I want to be what God wants me to be, but I can't be.  I'm not perfect.  I'm so far away from perfect it's like a train wreck in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean -- Impossible.  I could probably do a lot better on the housework and laundry.  Okay.  I DEFINITELY could do better on the housework and laundry.  But behaving "gracefully in all situations & circumstances" just isn't in me.  I have no tact.  No diplomacy.  Patience?  Not really.  I can work on that.  "A kind word for everyone" is sooooooo not me.  I admit it.  Some people just irritate me to the point that it's either walk away, or go to jail for assault.  I do NOT handle stupidity very well.  Okay. I do not handle stupidity with patience or kind words.  


Yes, I'm not the woman of the Bible.  I can aspire to be a better daughter, wife, mother, Woman.....and I will try.  But I'm also learning to be happy with who I am.  After all, God made me and "God don't make no junk."  So maybe He's okay with me being a sarcastic, pushy, occasionally overbearing, overprotective control-freak.  And maybe He will help me smooth out these rough edges on this old piece of coal.  I'm not expecting to turn into a diamond overnight -- or at all, really.  And I'm not expecting the laundry to miraculously be washed, dried, ironed, and folded.....but maybe He will help me find all the hours in the day I need, assistance to get it all done, and the ability to ask for and accept said assistance.


I'm not SuperMom.  I'm not SuperWife.  I'm certainly not SuperWoman.  But with God's help, maybe I can be good enough, even if I'm not perfect.

As a Wife.....

Today's blog is from the perspective of "Wife."  A friend, Hello Rosie posted her blog this morning about the 5 Love Languages. (if you don't know what they are, please look them up.  You'll be glad you did.)  This, of course, got me thinking.  My husband and I don't speak the same Love Language.  Mine is Words of Affirmation with a close second being Physical Touch.  His, on the other hand, is Acts of Service.  This can lead to miscommunication.

For example, the other night, my husband and I had.........well, an unpleasant conversation.  Not a fight, but there was certainly no laughter in the room.  Sometimes it's the language we speak, the language we hear, or sometimes, it's just the timing.  The conversation left what I'm going to call a marriage bruise.  You know what those are.  Feelings were hurt, you're both scared to touch the subject again because it's still sore (like a bruise), but it will go away (like a bruise).  Eventually.  How long it takes depends on the size of the bruise.  Hopefully, this one is just a small one and will disappear quickly.  Not one of those that turns all the beautiful colors of the rainbow and HURTS for a looooooooong time.

But as my friend reminded me with her post, maybe I should look back over the last little while (translation: months) and remember everything he has done FOR me and try to forget what he hasn't verbalized.  Like a man, he can stick his foot in his mouth.  And like a woman (see? I can be fair), sometimes I don't hear what is said.  I hear a different version that may not match what he meant.  Then, maybe, I should try to speak HIS language instead of always expecting him to speak mine.

So, this blog is about a wife.  But about a wife apologizing to her husband for not being the wife she should be.  He really is a great guy.  I don't always give him the credit due him, and for that I am also sorry.  He isn't perfect, but he's mine, and I love him.  More than he can possibly understand, and more than he will ever know.  I know it's cliched, but he really is my soul-mate.  And it hurts horribly when things are....discordant...between us.