Humans Need Humans

I became a believer in Jesus Christ at the age of five. I wasn't coerced, following the crowd, or run by emotion. In fact, I invited him to be Lord of my life in my mother's bedroom. I didn't tell anyone for some time and I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I accepted Him with the faith of a child. I was so excited about this new relationship that I asked Him to "come into my heart" everyday until I told my mother what I had done and I was assured that He wasn't going anywhere. What a relief I felt knowing that He would always be there, and wouldn't leave simply because I failed in some way.

I was a pleaser growing up. I tried to do the right things, I got good grades in school, and I didn't go to parties where I would be forced to make choices I didn't want to make. I didn't do these things simply to please others, but because I wanted to like myself. I wasn't perfect, of course. I made mistakes, some of which I still remember with regret. Since I became a Christian at such a young age, most of growing in my faith has taken place as an adult. I've had my share of heartaches, loneliness, doubt, and complacency. I have wondered where God is and allowed myself to go down roads I shouldn't, either in thought or action. During these times I yearned for people, women of the faith, with whom to share my need. I have a few friends, and you know who we are, who have been the perfect balance of truth and love. It has made me think about the qualities that we as Christians need in each other. Not only Christians, but a world looking for an answer:

1.  Those who speak the truth in love. We don't need someone to tell us what we need to hear, but we need someone who loves us enough to not condemn before we begin. We as Christians can often create an air of perfection that is difficult to relate to. We quote scripture, we tell people the black and white, but we don't take the time to love. We need to stand on truth, now more than ever. We can't be conspirators in sin. However, we must be like Jesus. He did not cater or excuse sin, yet sinners were drawn to Him. Why? Because He loved. He loved them as they were and they became better just by being in His presence.

2.  Those who know there is a story behind the struggle. There is often more to the struggle than what is obvious on the surface. Christians don't just need reminders of right and wrong. They already know. The world does not understand, nor necessarily care, what it should do. I have found, particularly through my job, that we cannot make a judgment by a surface relationship. It is easy to judge what someone has done, but until we know their story, we don't understand the struggle. Sin almost always is borne by struggle, and it rarely takes root in an instant.

3. Those who are willing to take the time to get to know another person. How many times as believers do we say that we will pray for each other when someone expresses a struggle? We say we will pray, and then we don't follow up. I have been guilty of that, too. It is the easy way and doesn't require much effort from us. We as humans long for companionship. We long for people to know us deeply and care about our inward beings. We want to love and be loved. Too many people live without that sense of belonging. When people feel accepted and cared for, they are more willing to share their struggles before they take root.

I desire to be that woman that loves deeply, at the cost of my own comfort and time. I want the world to see Jesus in more than just my words. I want people to be better just by experiencing Christ in my life, and knowing that someone cares about them. God, let it be so. More of you, less of me.

The Secret Life of the Human Being

I have been told on occasion that I should consider starting a blog. I always thought the idea was a bit strange for numerous reasons, the least of them being that I am not an expert in any area. I am not a fitness guru, a DIY queen, or an organizational genius, although I do dabble in all these areas. I do not consider myself to be super mom or wife of the year. I am simply LeeAnn: wife, mother, part time early interventionist, brand spanking new homeschooling teacher, daughter, sister, friend. Who would read it and what could I possibly say that would be worth listening to? Most of the things I write or say are a result of struggles, trying to navigate this life journey through paper and pen. I have always learned and processed through writing or talking it out. Then I realized that maybe me talking it out can help another going through the same struggles, someone who has believed the lie that at no one feels the same way that they do. Oh, the guilt that goes with that!

In the past 11 years I have been doing early intervention, I have had the privilege of coming into contact with every type of woman imaginable. There are the ones I would hang out with had we met under nonprofessional circumstances. There are the ones who seemed to be checked out, uninvolved, or overwhelmed to the point of just getting by. There are moms who have been rejected, abused, and used by those who are supposed to love them. One thing I have found to be true: they are all looking to be understood, accepted, and affirmed. They may just not realize it yet. So, sometimes I share my stories, the ones that go past the persona that I must be a perfect mother with perfect children. The stories that prove that being a mother is hard, being a woman is hard, being a human being is hard, and we are all in the process of refining. One day I will tell the story of today, the day that started off at the DMV.

Those initials themselves should be enough to explain the making of a meltdown. Not my children. Me. I'm talking a yelling, crying fit.  To be honest, the DMV was fine, uncharacteristically quick and pleasant. My kids were okay, at least no one would have called CPS. But, after the end of a week     long battle of feeling underappreciated and disrespected, it only took a small amount of whining, bickering, and disobedience to push me over the edge.  Fortunately, I held it together until we got in the car. We went home, I sent them to their beds without lunch, and told them I did not want to see them until we had all had a break. I felt horribly that I had allowed myself to snap. After all, I'm supposed to love them like Jesus. I'm supposed to be calm and controlled. I am the mom. I am not supposed to be like that.

Except, I am like that. Whether I like it or not, I am human, and I'm pretty sure my kids have suspected that for years. I learned today that I still have a long way to go before my first reaction is Christ's reaction. I am a forever changing, imperfect being. And that is okay. My children learned that I am not just a demand following robot. I am a human with feelings. I want to be respected, listened to, and loved. I am not so unlike them that I cannot relate to their feelings.

My daughter woke up saying she was sorry. I told her I forgave her and then she said she forgave  me. That is the best part of being human. The ability to love despite imperfections. They may see a part of me at times that I despise, but I have determined that they will see the side that is willing to admit when I am wrong. To apologize is one thing. To ask to be forgiven is completely different. I am getting there, with God's strength.

Then we had ice cream for lunch, three imperfect, but growing, human beings, running this race together.