So as I was sitting here, thinking about what I wanted to write and I felt frustration. What is this blog for? Maybe it is a blog where I have a million followers and I can actually make a living off of it. Or maybe it is a platform where the lessons I learn are shared, and sought out. Where I write a book that encourages young women, moms, older gals, single ladies and such to seek God and use their gifts to take over the…I mean change the world.
I am not a mommy blogger. My youngest son just turned eighteen, but really has not wanted me to be his mom since he was in Kindergarten. He was the most independent child in a line of four independent boys. I was never a mom that was very involved, and the teachers did not know me by my first name. Don’t get me wrong, those moms are amazing, I was just not one of them.
Am I a Christian blogger? I write a lot about my own faith journey. Sometimes I think it is too serious or boring, and I feel like I am a lot funnier in person. Or at least I think so? So I have been thinking about my “voice” a lot lately. Who am I speaking to? Is it the working woman, the mom, the Christian, the unbeliever, the failure, the dreamer or is it to all of the above?
When you don’t have a particular niche it seems hard to me. No one seems to zero in on a blog where it just talks about… whatever? So what do I know? Well, it is that I am a story teller and an encourager. So I guess I will just end this with a story.
One afternoon I was home with the kids and I went into the kitchen at one point, and saw smoke pouring into that room. I immediately turned around, grabbed all the children, the phone and went outside to call the fire department. It was mostly smoke, and it only caused surface damage, so we were very blessed. Come to find out that our seven year old son lit some matches in the garage next to a mattress. He had only been in the garage for a few minutes, as I had just rounded him up because he was not allowed to play in there. I just did not catch him fast enough. The matches had smoldered and eventually produced a bunch of smoke and a small amount of flame. It was so disheartening to me. My son was a bit of a handful. He always ran everywhere, he never walked. He was always active and had already started to have some trouble with school work. Don’t get me wrong, he did have things going for him. He was always helpful, kind, worked hard, and always had a great attitude.
Well you can imagine, the stress level we had. We were worried about this little guy and how life was going to deal with him. It was one day not too long after the fire when I had a conversation with a pastor at our church. He was in charge of all of our missions at the church, and at that time it was a rather large program. He stopped me though and told me a little about himself. So here was this very well respected pastor, who I totally thought was a wonderful man, and he was telling me what a stinker he was as a child. He said that he had done things like that when he was young too. He encouraged me that my son would grow out of it, that he would do just fine. When I looked at him, I felt hope. If he was a handful as a child, could get through it and be successful, well then so could my son. I am so grateful for the conversation and the encouragement. He also was right. My son did make it through his childhood, not perfectly, and with many struggles. He is still a hard worker, kind and willing to help if he is able. His family means everything to him, and he is an optimistic and encouraging person. Perfect? No. Best trait of all? He is over the whole setting things on fire stage, and now he puts them out. He spends his summers fighting wildfires throughout California. So all of that energy and activity that drove us crazy as a kid, now helps him do his job well.
I think of the women like me who are out there, dealing with crazy little kids in their lives. I just want to tell you, have faith. You can do this and they will make it. I know….I was there once too. Thankful not to be there any longer!