Remind me that this is a celebration, a milestone of achievement and happiness and success, and not a moment to be mourned or feared. Give her the grace to tolerate my moments of tears, and give me the strength to let those moments be few.
Life is always busy. Always messy. Always chaotic. But this season is even more so for us, and we honestly didn’t plan in advance for the level we’ve been living in for the last few months. And without a plan. . . .I don’t do well. I crumble, panic, hide. I alternate between tears and rage as my frustration begins to spiral out of control and bleed into anxiety.
I will raise a hallelujah even in the darkness. Even when the chaos descends. Even if my peace gives way to my anxiety. I will raise a hallelujah. He is with me. He's got this. I will keep singing. Hallelujah.
I know these things, and these things tell me that I’m definitely screwing this up. I’m definitely not Good Enough. And I’ve not been Good Enough for quite a few years. My oldest is 17, and as I think about launching her into adulthood I feel the questions bubble back up and catch in my throat again and again. “Am I doing this right? Am I screwing this up? Is this Good Enough? Am I Good Enough?”