Every family carries a measure of dysfunction. I've never met one that is perfect. Sometimes the ones that appear the most perfect are, in fact, the most broken. Our McCarthy family was broken but beautiful. I have a deep & loyal love for us. I'm grateful for the precious gift. Looking back helps in the moving forward and making sense. Much of the way I raised my kids and live my life is because of my experience with my mother. Growing up in a chaotic environment left me with a need for order & self-discipline. For control & peace. A happy family life. I may have thought there was such thing as a perfect mom. I poured myself passionately into the job. I wanted to be the mom I wished mine had been.
Turns out. It wasn't as easy as it looked. I think for every one thing I got right... I got ten things wrong. Because "perfect" isn't a thing. We compare our insides to everyone else's outsides. It's a trick.
It's impossible to ever be enough. Luckily, I have wise kids. They never bought into the pressure. They pushed back. They've taught me and are teaching me about grace. About living a fearless life. Free of living up to expectations and conditions. Free of the need to prove themselves. Free to figure out who they are and where they're headed. Tattoos and all:) perfect in their imperfections. They've been my best teachers in the school of mothering. Especially in the classroom of LeTTiNG GO. My kids dazzle me. They're SO brave. So beautiful.
Jesus says to me 'be perfect ....be whole....include all your imperfections. Be happy when you discover a new fault. When you screw up. Talk about it. Write about it. Be vulnerable. You won't have any grand illusions or reputation to live up to. That's when all the greatness begins.' So. Yep. That's what I'm practicing. ❤️
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