Wimpy mom, continued

First of all, thanks, Faith, for admitting that I am not alone. It is a (dis)honor to share my title of wimpy queen with you. We are both bad, along with many others who won't admit it.

By the way, in case you are wondering why I am suddenly writing so much, it is because school has started again. Since the kids are required to do daily writing, I am trying to set the example by doing the same. Just as some of their writing notebook entries are rather lame, some of mine are, too.

As I was reading my story about the mice to Jonathan, he made a remark about how I am always cutting myself down in my stories. I tried to reassure him that my sin has seldom been being too harsh on myself. On the contrary. If anything my sin has always been vanity and pride, thinking too highly of myself. Maybe I am trying to make up for too many years of putting on airs and acting like I had it all together. Laughing at my faults just helps keep things in perspective.

One thing about seeing my weaknesses in print is that I am challenged to do something about them - just like when I decided to allow the Holy Spirit to help me overcome my squeamishness with blood and other bodily fluids. After having the family laugh over the same story year after year ("We don't know who will be the first one to get carsick on a road trip, but we all know who will be the second one to throw up!"), I finally became ashamed rather than proud of my weakness. Asking the Holy Spirit to take over that part of me that gags at the sight, smell, or suggestion of bodily fluids, I was delivered from it.

I think I boasted to some of you about the first time I was able to hold a barf bowl for a child and not require one of my own. It was a proud day (in the right sense of the word!) as Jesus helped me conquer a lifetime of being a wimp in that area. Likewise, I am now surrendering my squeamishness over creepy crawlers, and trusting God to help me overcome it. To balance my negative stories, I promise to share the victory when I manage to do something brave regarding things I still consider totally icky. As long as I have a 12-year-old man-in-the-making under my care, I might have to rely on his heroism to squash the spiders, but someday I vow to toughen up on purpose.

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