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Posts Tagged ‘failures’

My family knows, much to hubby’s chagrin (since he discovered online movies that can be watched at home) that I LOVE to go to the theater to watch movies. I love the popcorn, I love the dark, I love the laughter of strangers all around me, I love that the seats are low enough that my vertically-challenged feet reach the floor, and I LOVE that they tell you to turn your phones off!

So, for Mother’s Day they took me to a movie I had heard of, but written off as one about mom’s of little ones.

Mom’s Night Out is a movie about a trio of weary moms, all dealing with stresses of their own. Allyson is the main character, and she is struggling with the blessing of having what she always dreamed of (motherhood) but not being happy, feeling like a failure and trying to find purpose.

Who couldn’t relate to those struggles (with or without children)?

I strongly encourage (or is it ‘incourage’) any lady (not just moms) to see this movie (plus it has my favorite ‘tweeter’, Patricia Heaton, and the comedian whose voice I hear whenever I get a pedicure, Anjelah Johnson … see her video at the bottom of this page).

I had no idea just how applicable this movie would be for this momma who fails at her dream every day.

And, speaking of ‘incourage’ I discovered that another blogger has already told the tale of this movie, so, rather than re-create the wheel … check out this post from incourage.me.

“In the new movie MOMS’ NIGHT OUT, a group of moms dealing with everyday stresses realize they need a night out. The main character, Allyson (who is played by Sarah Drew), is a blogging wannabe when we first meet her. Enjoy this post written in the voice of Allyson.

“Beck’s playing in the toilet again!”

Not the words you want to hear when you are already late for church, your husband is out of town, and you’re trying to move your little army out the door in the general direction of the minivan. You are of single mind and laser focus: we will not be late, we will not be late, we will not be late!

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Your children, on the other hand, are meandering through the house without a care in the world. Why brush your teeth when you can play one more game? Why wear church clothes when you look so much more fabulous in your sparkly shoes and a tutu? And why not have a regatta in the toilet while Mom is looking for the only clean pair of khaki pants that don’t have a rip in the knee?

Maybe if everyone just slept in their church clothes.

Sunday mornings would go so much better. Wrinkly, yes, but better. And why stop there?  Why not load up the swagger wagon on Saturday night and just bed down in the minivan so that you would actually be in the parking lot before Sunday school? This idea has real potential and you vow to give it a whirl soon.

Once the kids are finally maneuvered into their clothes and parked on the couch staring at a video, you throw on a dress and reassure yourself that a messy bun is a fabulous fashion statement. And hey, if you hit enough red lights, you can do your makeup on the way. A girl can dream can’t she?

Reality sets in as you roar into the church parking lot.

All the perfect moms are chatting with each other, the sun gleaming off their perfectly highlighted tresses as they compliment each other on their perfectly coordinated dresses and shoes. You know perfectly well they must have nannies. You’ve never actually seen any of these nannies but you know there must be an underground legion of them who hold down the fort while these women take actual showers and blow out their hair and try on outfits. Otherwise, how could they look like THAT?

Then comes the cherry on your Sunday sundae: your four-year-old daughter asks to help with your eye makeup. It’s her charming LET ME! LET ME! LET ME! at the top of her lungs that inspires you to hand her that mascara wand. Hiding her handiwork behind a pair of dark glasses, you marshal your last bit of strength and head into church.

Deposit the kids in the nursery, try to fix your raccoon eye in the ladies room, and crawl over four people into a pew. But finally, it’s time. Time for a few moments of peace. Just you, God, and the reassurance that it’s all going to be okay. Your spirit will be renewed and you will be ready to head back into battle. Thank you, God, for these children. For the privilege of being their mama. For the love You show me every day. Please give me strength.

And as you collect them all up again and head back into the parking lot, you smile at the pictures they made and know that it will all be better . . . in five or maybe seven years.”

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A while back while in the hairstylist’s chair, this song enters my consciousness. And throughout my being I felt that inner … sigh. That sigh that says, “I heard every word, I felt every emotion, I just experienced the cry of my own heart through the words of a stranger.

I wrote recently about my flawed ability to persevere, and how I have a three year lifespan of interest in just about anything from my job, to hobbies, to even my relationship with my hubby, and it is in that, my relationship with my hubby, that the words of the song in the hairstylist’s chair, spoke to me.

It does not make me proud to admit that my hubby has heard from my lips, statements like:

“I’m done.”
“I cannot keep doing this.”
“I don’t see a future for us.”

And those are just the statements that I am willing to share in writing. Perseverance is not my strength! But, commitment is my strength, and I am thankful for that.

When we married, over twenty-three years ago, I know I expected this marriage thing to be easy, after all we loved each other, and that is all it takes, right? Well about six or seven years into our marriage, when neither of us were as quick or willing to apologize, kiss and make up, as when we were first married, easy was not how I would have described marriage.

There have been failures on the part of both of us. We have had seasons of frustration, boredom, annoyance, anger and apathy with and for each other. There have been times when each of us have failed the other in our initial vows to the other.

Now, twenty-three years later, I know that we had not even touched the tip of the iceberg of what love is when we were married. Now, I know that love is not a feeling, it is a state of being and doing, even when it is ugly, messy, uncomfortable and inconvenient. In the words of someone I heard back when we were first married, “marriage is about bad smells and bad noises,” and if I might add to it, bad attitudes and bad behaviors.

But, it is not all bad …

In our years of marriage, we have had seasons of great joy, great happiness, beautiful memories, mutual love and support of each other. My hubby is my best friend in this world, he knows me like no other, and there is no other who I want to share my darkest nights, or brightest days with. It is with him that I feel a sense of completion that is other-worldly. It is with him that I feel the most real me.

So, as I sat in that hairstylist chair, with the following song penetrating my mind and heart, the statement that came to mind so very clearly was:

“I won’t give up on us”

“God knows we’re worth it.”

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When we hear of the name of King David our minds think of Goliath, death threats from King Saul, naked dancing in the streets, bad children, and, of course, Bathsheba. His is not a life to emulate! And yet, Samuel says of David, “the Lord has sought out a man after his own heart and appointed him ruler of his people” (1 Samuel 13:14).

A man after God’s own heart …

That is the verse that has had me wondering for years. When I see my Creator face to face, I will ask for further explanation. It makes me wonder, if David’s had God’s heart, maybe I have hope too.

When I was young, and idealistic, I have to say I thought the whole thing of David having a heart like God’s was a typo. Really how could a man who messed up so often, with so many people (his family, and an entire nation) and with such dire consequences, have a heart after God’s own heart? That just makes no sense. That just does not seem to be logical.

Maybe the clue to how David had the heart of God comes from when the prophet Samuel came to anoint one of the sons of Jesse as the next king of Israel. The first son he meets is the eldest, Eliab and he would seem to have looked like the right man to sit on the throne, because “Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands here before the Lord” (1 Samuel 16:6).

But God interrupted the thoughts of Samuel on his first impressions of Eliab, and He said to Samuel, “do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7

Maybe David was only about ten when God had Samuel anoint David as king, but God saw his heart. He saw:
the gentle shepherd boy,
he saw the brave giant killer,
he saw the man who would lose all kingly demeanor and dance, un-robed, as the Ark entered the city,
he saw the great leader,
he saw the very human man who blew it royally (pun intended) by staying home while his soldiers fought on, who allowed his hands to take what his eyes desired (in another man’s wife), and who killed her husband,
who focused on his kingly duties to the point of forgetting his fatherly responsibilities,
who chose Solomon, not his eldest, as successor,
he saw a man from whose genealogy the Messiah would come, and through whom there would “never fail to have a successor on the throne of Israel” (1 Kings 2:4).

In short, God knew how very human was David’s heart, but He loved it anyway! Just as God does with the hearts of all humankind. It is by His grace, that we too can hearts after God’s own heart.

And, like David, I want to reach the end of my days and have people say that my heart looks like the heart of God.

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