Positively (Im)perfect

This year (all one and a half months of it, ha) seems to be extremely intent on beating me over the head with a single lesson:  Timing is everything. I'm not talking about my own timing, of course. One by one, my plans this year have been getting handed to me. Not exactly in an I'm-getting-life-handed-to-me way, but more in a "nice try, but your plans just got totally dominated (but you still get to benefit!)" way. I think it's because I tend to get stuck so easily on when and how certain things should happen (are you noticing a recurring theme here?). I'm good at  saying  that I'm trying to trust God's plan and timing, but then I'm all shock and awe every time something happens that goes against the "plan" I envisioned. I'm blown away that it didn't happen in my time and in my way. Even though (surprise, surprise!) the different plan or path always seems to work out--often better than mine would! Anyway, from the

The words in this post are my heart's response to stories that are not my own to tell...and therefore, it will be intentionally vague. Because my kids' lives are not my own. But, in the same breath, I must acknowledge that my kids are my life. Like it or not, their worlds collectively define mine. Which means that I cannot help but cradle their hopes and dreams and struggles and fears in my heart in a way that fuses them with my own. Many days, my heart has (and will) try to leap out of me and attempt to run after them, aching, breaking, with the desire to rescue them from their anxieties or fix their fears or find a way to make the big wide world a more gentle place for them to tred. My brain knows that they must (and will), find their own unique way to navigate this inflexible and unforgiving world, but my heart...my heart will always hate the parts of this world that demand an arbitrary standard of "normalcy" from my brilliant loves who a