Confessions from a Thirty Something Momma

Being a Mom is hard.  Really hard. The demands on my time often feel endless. Most days I am drained and worn out, too tired to do anything I wanted to get to “ after the kids are in bed .” I’ll be totally honest and transparent here: I complain about way too much. I complain about the tantrums and the potty training. I complain about the exhaustion and sleepless nights. I complain about the diaper changes and endless mounds of laundry. I even complain about how many times I have to reheat my coffee (if I can even manage to prepare myself a cup)! To my dismay, I often realize I spend more time complaining about my tasks and the endless work of teaching my kids to share and obey than I do being thankful for the job of being a mother. If there was a contest for “Whiny Mother of the Month,” I think I would merit a nomination. I wish I was exaggerating. But I know I’m not. That being said, I decided to do something different. Instead of reading or writing blogs commis...

Silence. That’s what you’ve heard from me via my blog over the past few months. The crickets have chirped, the sun and moon have risen and set many times. And my voice on the cyber pages of my blog has been silent. This actually hadn’t been my intention or purpose. As the days passed and I sat before my keyboard, I was … blank. At first I attributed to writers’ block. The longer it persisted, the more frustrated I became. I wrote a handful of posts, having only scrapped them the next day or two because they didn’t feel right. I didn’t know what I wanted to say. And if I did, I didn’t know how. This was definitely a first for me. I was troubled, having thought I lost my mojo for writing. How sad. I bemoaned my slump to some friends and family. And still… silence on that "new post" space of my page. So where have I been? What’s been going on? In truth, I’ve spend the past few months backpacking through the mountains of circumstance, transition, and hardship. ...

Dear Lord, As we walk through this Easter weekend, once again examining and replaying the events that took place some 2,000 years ago, I can't help but think about my own journey of transformation these past few years. Six years ago, I stood before you with what felt like a life that was falling apart and a heart full of shattered hopes and dreams. I've heard stories and soliloquies of the anguish the disciples may have felt that weekend before Easter morning. They did not know, as we know now, what Sunday morning held for them. And so Lord there are many folks around me, living in their own personal anguish. Many times, the situations that brought about hurt and brokenness was not of their making. And they wonder, if there will indeed be an Easter morning on the horizon of their hearts. They dare not hope, for their pain feels too deep and their hope too far gone. And its for those I pray today. I was counted among them 6 years ago. I dared not hope that I could have ...

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, God,” I prayed as I vacuumed the staff lounge floor. Tears dropped down my cheeks as I passed the vacuum hose across the floor and around the couches. I was 25, single, and living overseas. And while I was generally happy, my heart longed and ached to be married and start a family. I remember saying as much in my prayers. “I have so much love to give God. I’m ready! When will you use all this nurturing and potential I have inside?” Gently but firmly, I felt God shift my focus. I was reminded that I was surrounded by others that I had the opportunity to love and serve. I could practice andshare my love with them, until the time came for me to start my own family. I still remember the aching I felt in my heart for more. I felt ready for the love and companionship that I thought was only available in marriage and with children. Feeling ready for it, but lacking the reality of it in my life, I felt like I was missing out on something big! Fast ...

I have a good memory. A freakishly good memory. Not good enough to ace my SATs in high school or anything. But good enough to pull out my 3rd grade class photo and be able to recall the first and last name of over half the class. I remember people I went to high school with who have no clue or recollection of who I am. I think I've even scared a few when I approached them and asked if they were so and so from the class of 1997.  Yet despite this trove of archives in my brain, I seem to forget daily or weekly tasks quite readily.  Just last week I was having discussion with my husband. Dinner was almost done dooking when he asked me what that burning smell was. I gasped and ran to the s tove. And there sat a pot of burned carrots. They were charred and black and stuck to the bottom of the pan.  I was so frustrated! I was already having a rough day and I couldn't even boil pot of sliced carrots without burning them! Where did this great memory on mine go?  Why is...

“Hi, my name is Xiomara,” I said to introduce myself.  I sat in a small room, nervous about my first meeting. I was going through a particularly painful and difficult season in my life. So with the encouragement of my husband and a counselor, I attended a support group meeting. This first meeting became one of many. Amongst those seated in that room week after week, I found hope, encouragement, and community. I learned that I didn't have to bear the burden of my difficulties alone and in isolation. I learned that my painful experiences weren't unique to just me but were also shared with others. In the middle of a desert land in my life, I had found an oasis. An oasis is a small fertile or green area in a desert region, usually having a spring or well. It’s known for serving as a refuge, relief, and time of refreshment from the dry and sometimes harsh desert climate. A lot of things have changed in my life since I sat in that room some years ago. Yet someh...

I have a superpower. I can make friends really easily. Not only that, I like making new friends. I really, really, enjoy it. Meeting new people, learning about them, and making new friends is like trying fun new drinks or desserts while I’m on vacation. For me, it’s like having a mini adventure. When I was 17, there was this guy I attended church with. He and my brother were the same age, and for some reason they rubbed each other the wrong way. There was no real drama behind it. I think their personalities just clashed. He used to sort of ignore me because he didn't get along with my brother. I think he assumed I’d dislike him or something. This gave me a desire to try my own personal social experiment. If I approached him as if there was no issues and I purposefully befriended him, would that win him over? Would being willing to be open and friendly be enough to break down this invisible wall? I wasn't sure – but I wanted to find out. So I did just that. I greeted h...