My Broken Hallelujah

Last updated on: December 10, 2012 at 12:12 am by Grace Sandra

My Broken Hallelujah 2012-12-10T00:12:55-04:00 Grace Sandra

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There is beauty and brokenness in parenting. The heartache of possibilities held in tension with the fullness of joy is enough to make your heart explode like day old lasagna left too long in a splattered microwave….or something like that. It’s messy.

Brokenness.

I want to be a more engaged mother, a kinder mother, a more loving mother. All noble, all good. Here’s the thing, in my head, it sounds like this: “what kind of mother do you think you are exactly?” and “you suck as a mother,” and “your kids deserve a better mother.” Ouch.

Brokenness.

My brain refuses to draw a happy middle line, something along the lines of “you did a great job NOT yelling at the kids when you wanted to erupt. How ’bout tomorrow we shoot for an even better response?” Why, for example, does it take an insane amount of energy to treat myself as cordially as I would any other mother struggling with the same issues? Because I would, Moms of the world! I have compassion overflowing like the over-heated lasagna.

The ordinary pressures of life, the challenges of marriage, the transition of part-time to full-time has left me so completely vulnerable to the lies that I have -inexplicably- turned into the worst version of a mother I could be. The insecurities? Sky rocketed by a thousand degrees. Mom guilt over coming home late? Off the charts. Work trips? Down for the count.

Brokenness.

Yes, I acknowledge the LIES. Yet, the brokenness is there. The odd temptation to pull away from that which could hurt me. And so, I pray. What is left?

I’ve spent the last month praying God would soften my heart for my kiddo’s. It’s been out of desperation really, that I’ve been in continuous prayer that God would restore to me the energy and focus to engage them fully. Today I was a weepy mess over the ways I long to do better. Not the ways I’m being too hard on myself, but the painfully harsh realities where I could have chosen to love better but didn’t.

I recognize this longing to make things right, to love more fully, to serve more faithfully as answered, but painful prayer. All is grace.

This is my broken hallelujah.

For today.

Onward.

This post is part of a linkup today titled “A Broken Hallelujah” hosted byProdigal Magazine and SheLoves Magazine. Head on over to their sites to read more stories of faith in hard times.

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