Sitting at Starbucks on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Finally got my butt down to getting the edits back to my copywriter and I am thrilled to say I am really proud of the sample chapters that I wrote. Somehow, I feel like this book will get out there, whether or not I make the big 5. Maybe the memoir is supposed to come later.
It's been an awkward couple of days navigating the family space. We've had a busy quarter and it's almost like we're learning to function as a family again. The kids are bickering around each other and it's almost like we all take turns picking on each other. Today, the power struggle was between me and Aidan and getting him to put on his jacket.
This morning, in church I decided that the most powerful effective thing I can do everyday is to wake up in the morning and pray for each member of my family. I'm feeling powerless and guilty about how I raised them, the kinds of spouses they will be for someone else one day and the houses they will keep as adults.
This morning I had a moment of surrender, that amidst all of my intentional parenting, I really don't have control over the outcome of my children, and the only place I can garner up any semblance of control is on my knees in prayer.
I guess the biggest space where I feel most helpless and powerless is in the space of faith. A year from Nally's age, I had experienced a spiritual awakening and rededicated my life to Christ. My children seem nowhere near the possibility of a spiritual revival -- and part of it is having two parents of different denomination, different spirituality literally.
I remember the exact moment when I told my spiritual mentor that I wasn't going to date someone from the same spiritual background and she warned me that it would me a huge part of me that I would never get to share with my partner. I had poo-pooed it, and decided I was "bigger than that" and even separated our faith and lives so well, it doesn't bother me.
But now, in the face of raising our children --- there it is. What does daddy's faith look like?
But right now, in this moment, I am pounding down the keyboard at Starbucks, looking across my daughter doing homework and a dog on her lap. Buzz has got his service dog jacket on, I am sipping on a peppermint mocha and part of me wishes I could have a Daddy long legs to write to.
But I do -- and it's you God. After all these years, it has been you.