Mom Life

The Mismatched Gloves

It had been a day.  Not long.  Not short.  Just a day.  Another one that didn’t go how I wanted.  Those seem to happen often.

And here it was 4:30pm and I was finally clearing the sink of lunch dishes…yeah, and breakfast dishes too.

How I longed for a day {even one day} to go as perfectly as my mind imagined it could when my feet hit the ground in the morning.

As I swished soapy water over pots and pans and looked out my kitchen window, I caught myself.  The snow.  Yes, it’s April.  The calendar says spring.  But I guess, the weather doesn’t care to check my calendar.  It was pretty when it first fell…all 9 inches.  How we wished it would of fallen in January.  But, the kids strapped on snow boots and traipsed about.  And now it was two days later.  And snow doesn’t look so pretty anymore after a few days.  As I gazed outside and grunted at the murky water on top of the pool cover, the bikes, the sled, and those chestnut tree pieces, I realized that my perspective was wrong.


And then it happened: I looked down at my dishwashing gloves.  They didn’t even match.  And that plant in the windowsill…it’s not looking like it’s taken care of.  I am not perfect.  So, how could I expect my day, my life, my family to be perfect?  The ideal of perfect is only in my mind.  If I abandon that ideal, my life might actually be…perfect.  Not the perfect where my house is always clean, my relationships are right on target, my landscaping is magnificent, my children are little adult clones, or my make-up looks like I have a personal beauty consultant.  Rather the perfect that God has for my life.  The life that I live for Him in the midst of real life.


And then it dawned me.  I “failed at being perfect” again.  The dinner I had planned wouldn’t work since I forgot an important ingredient on my last grocery store trip.  So, what’s a mom to do?

French toast!  Yup, that’s what she does.  You know that yummy, crispy, buttery french toast with thick Texas toast bread.  And it was delicious!  I received many, “Great meal, Mom!” and “yum” while lips were smacking off the maple syrup from their lips.

And I relished in it.  Forced myself to forget that they wouldn’t of thanked me for the “planned” meal.

We cleaned up the table, put our pj’s on, and played a board game together…with lots of buttery popcorn!

Life is messy.  But it is what we do with those messes that count.  It really is all about perspective…

and mismatched gloves.


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1 Comment

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