I found, well Rich found, a new blog that I LOVE. Her name is Julie, and she is a MOM! She wrote the following article, but first I want to give you the back story.

I pride myself (oops that should have been my first sign that there was a problem) on not yelling. But yesterday, in the Chick-fil-a drive through, with low blood sugar, PMS, bickering kids, and a husband on the phone delivering bad news that I didn’t want to hear, I LOST IT! I mean, I really lost it. At the top of my lungs, with hubby on the line, I yell “EVERYBODY–BE QUIET NOW!”

Awestruck faces and absolute silence in the car and on the other end of the phone.

“Kourt, are you o.k.? I’ve never heard you do that before?”

I wanted to say “Do I sound o.k.? What part of EVERYBODY BE QUIET NOW sounds o.k.?” But thankfully, I didn’t. I just said, “Babe, I need to call you back.” Then I profusely apologize to my kids for yelling, smile my good southern smile at the perky employee whose pleasure it was to serve me, and drive to the nearest place where I can sob and cry and finally pull it together enough to apologize to my kids again. “Mommy is REALLY sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Will you forgive me?”

The first redemptive part of the story is when my kids say “Mommy, why are you crying? We already forgave you. Can we just get to our playdate?”

The second redemptive part of the story is when my precious husband calls in the middle of my picnic with two other mommies (who knew I’d lost it with my kids) and says, I just ran across something I think you’ll want to hear. I don’t really want to explain why. I just want to read it to you, is that o.k.? I said, o.k. and proceeded to hear the following words from my new best friend Julie who lives in Fort Worth, is a mommy to three young boys and wife to one brave soldier.

Thank you Rich for saving the day.

Panic.  Attack. I was sitting at a red light when it happened.  Sitting in my SUV, my 2 boys in tow and it happened.  I had an anxiety attack.  Just sitting there.  Seemingly waiting for a green light to move, to go, and I was suddenly in a sweat, beating heart, mind spinning, stricken with fear. All sitting at a red light listening to the Wiggles. I recovered.  But soon found myself sitting and weeping before the Lord, then screaming and shouting.  Was God pleased at all with me?  Where had I gone wrong?  I was better than this.  How was I making any difference?

A Mom.  A broken Mom.  My visions were gone, probably vanished somewhere between poopy diapers and sleepless nights.  I didn’t go places anymore.  I surely wasn’t reaching the lost.  I put puzzles together, made mac-n-cheese, and disciplined senseless arguing.

Suffocated.

My head spoke of staying home with my boys, keeping our home in order, creating peace for my husband, loving my Lord; but my heart bled with fear.  Dreaded fear like I’d never known until I held my firstborn son.  Fear of doing it all wrong.  Fear of messing it all up.  Fear that was suffocating me.

I thought surely I am worth more than this daily list of chores, sometimes forgetting to shower, and hardly being noticed.  I was equipped for much greater.  But my desperation ran even deeper.  Like a ton of bricks strapped to each ankle was my bondage, my shackles.   With each baby I birthed, it was as if I picked up a few shackles on my way out of the hospital.   Perfectionism. Control.  Pride.  Performance-based living.  Significance in others.  Shackled.  Shackled.

I needed the gospel.  I needed my Jesus.  I needed to let the Holy Scriptures rain down upon my motherhood and fill me with hope.  Hope everlasting.

I am saved by grace through faith when I speak with an impatient harsh voice toward my son who just flooded the entire bathroom.

I can do all things, including changing diapers, making mac-n-cheese, and disciplining senseless arguing, through Christ who strengthens me.

I must go therefore, down the hallway with a cheerful heart, showered and ready for my ministry, and make disciples of all nations.  I greet my boys with gladness.

He rejoices over me with singing and quiets me with His love.  His love is not attached to my perceived greatness or performance.  I’m not popular with hardly anyone, apart from my handsome husband and brave boys.  Fruit comes slow in this ministry.  I’m on my knees.  I talk less.  I listen more.

And so I continue.  I still sit at red lights; now in a mini-van with 3 boys in tow, jamming to Toby Mac.  Our days are crazy, but I’m thankful He does all things well.  My visions are back, just with new faces.  I’m in full-time ministry for the Kingdom.  I get up and put on my full armor cause there’s no doubt I’m going into battle for the day.  I fight for my marriage and I battle for the future hearts of 3 young men.

A babysitter.  The world tells me I’m just a babysitter.  I rethink.  I am an ambassador in my home, for my family, to the glory of my God.  I am a Mom.