“What are you doing now?” I try not to let my words fumble out and search for an answer to the well-intended question. How do I say I’m learning to make pasta sauce from scratch, taking afternoon walks, and still raising a 12-year-old without sounding too boring? The question feels so loaded; though it’s only light conversation. It feels like I should answer with something more — riveting. I want to say I am flourishing.
Spring in the Texas Panhandle brings two things with it. Wind and a high chance of wildfires! The climate in the panhandle is extremely dry! So, when you mix a dry climate with gusting winds the risk of wildfires increases dramatically. I will never forget the wildfire that ravaged the land in the spring of my sixth-grade school year. The eerie glow of the orange flames illuminated the dark night sky, and smoke billowed through the air. Everything smelled of smoke.
As a child, I watched in wonder as my great-grandmother enjoyed World Wide Wrestling on her eighteen-inch television with the bunny ears antenna. As a young adult, I taught kickboxing and took classes in jujitsu. Through these and other experiences, I learned to be a fighter. However, none of my defensive techniques nor the power of my own will were any assistance in overcoming what felt like a tag team of self-pity and shame. I longed to stand empowered to proclaim God’s truth and passionately love His people, yet I continued to battle to believe I was enough for God.
I opened the door and saw a woman I didn’t know holding a bucket of fried chicken. “I wanted to do something,” she said. “I knew there would be people here and I knew you all would need to eat.” She handed me the food and asked me to give her condolences to my aunt and uncle, who had just lost their 10-day-old baby boy, my cousin.
One Monday evening I found myself solo parenting my three young children while my husband worked late.
“God please let tonight go smoothly…just give me strength to get through” I prayed as I stirred spaghetti noodles on the stove. During dinner, my youngest, a toddler, decided to style his hair with spaghetti while we ate…not exactly the smooth dinner I was hoping for. I decided a quick bath was in order. As I filled the tub with water and began scrubbing his rounded tummy, my preschooler came charging in, “I wanna bath, mommy!”