Ty: Remember when you use to blog everyday?
You'd think, a three-hour napper would give me some space and time to sit and pound out a couple of the posts I have bouncing in and out of my head all day. But sometimes bills, laundry and sleep take precedence.
I've always had a hard time not being the perfect housewife. I hate cleaning and when I attempt to cook a meal, I'm easily distracted; resulting in something burning, overflowing, or disgusting. I frequently have to rewash laundry because I forget to switch it over. My counters don't sparkle and it's a good day if the bed gets made.
Every January first, at least one of my resolutions consist of changing this part of me.
Towards the end of my pregnancy, I started to get anxious about the extra responsibility motherhood was going to put on these areas of my life. If I can't get these under control now, how am I going to do this and take care of another human being? Pinterest didn't help.
Perfection was my goal and meeting that goal wasn't looking good.
"Striving for excellence motivates you, striving for perfection is demoralizing." -Dr. Harriet Bralker
Striving for perfection is disheartening. Discombobulating. Discouraging.
There have been moments in the last three months when I've felt just that: demoralized. Not because I have a difficult baby or even lack of sleep, but because of giant monster we call "comparison." Between "Supermom's" Facebook posts and the self-burdening expectations I put on myself and my sweet baby, comparison has gotten the better of me on more than one occasion.
I've quickly realized perfection is unattainable, because perfection is a mirage. (You know someone needs to hear that! Tweet, tweet?)
If there's one thing I've learned so far, in my short stint of this marathon, it's that motherhood isn't an end goal, it's a journey (Click to tweet). The failure, the struggle, the joy and exceeding expectations are part of it all; or so I hear.
I may not be as perfect as I'd hoped to be, but I'm learning to accept that right now, at this point in my journey, to my baby girl, I'm as good of a mother as I can be.
"There's something better than perfection," and it's authenticity. I need it, my daughter needs it, my husband needs it, my community needs it.
*If you are on Facebook, you saw the picture that rocked me into this whole thing. Sure, it may be messier, less squeaky and more wrinkly. But it's worth it.
Maybe, you've been struggling with the mirage of perfection too; in motherhood, in academia, in the workforce, in marriage. Maybe you've felt like your end goal is unattainable. Unreachable. You don't feel like the best ____________________. Me neither. But right now, in this season, as learners and seekers, we are the best we can be. And sometimes, that's good enough.
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What's a stand-out lesson you've learned about "mirage of perfection" so far? It can be from your own experience or from observing someone else's experience.
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Dear Women (not yet) in Worship,
You know who you are.
You're sitting close enough to the front to feel the music loud, but a couple rows back so no one really, really notices you singing your heart out. I see you.
You come to church every week, a tad early, and rarely late. However, it's not because you're one of those people who show up before the previews in a movie theater (you know who you are), but because you'd rather push over that greeter than miss the first song. And if you do come in a little late, you're singing the minute you hear the words clear enough. I see you.
You don't look at the slides anymore because you know nearly every song by heart and you can close and lift your eyes to the heavens with freedom. I see you.
What you may lack in confidence or vocal technique, you make up for in passion and soul. I see you.
You sit in that chair every week, silently wishing you had the courage, the time, or the voice to join the team. I see you.
You start doubting that nudge you feel every week that says Go ahead, try out, you can do it. I see you.
You have made the stage an untouchable mirage you only daydream about stepping onto. I see you.
I'm here to tell you, the stage, the platform that seems so high and far off, it's built on brokenness, failures, doubts and inadequacies. (< Click to tweet.)
The stage isn't a badge of holiness, but rather a badge of humility. (tweet, tweet?) There is no room for pride when it comes to leading God's people; only prayer, passion, and perseverance.
You are a powerhouse, not because of who you are, but because of Whose you are. You were created for a specific purpose, and if you aren't living into that purpose, the Church, your brothers and sisters, are crippled. Health comes when every part is working and moving.
It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be nervous. It's okay that your voice isn't what it once was or what it should be. It's okay you'd rather die than speak in public. We can push our way past all that and watch God transform you.
I see you. I believe in you. Take the chance, ask for an audition or opportunity, and then equip yourself.
It's your time to move.
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Are you ready to take the next step as a women (not yet) in worship? I want to meet you, talk to you, equip and encourage you. Shoot me an email or sign up for my 5-Week Worship Coaching Course and let's get this ball rolling!
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Original photo via, edited by JM
Dear Sisters, I'm sorry. Tonight, at this year's VMA Awards, every young girl in the world was sent a message we've been trying to dissipate for years.
A message sent by many other mediums and vices. A message with potential to damage and inevitably demean. A message with an illusion of strength, but a reality of sorrow. A message glamorized by makeup and costumes. A message fantasized by girls just like you.
That message? Sex means "growing up." Use your sexuality to get noticed and get what you want. Sex is power.
No no one can blame Miley Cyrus for wanting to become more than the Disney Channel girl. We all need to grow up at some point. But what the world witnessed tonight was a juvenile and sorry attempt to do so. We didn't see a little girl growing up. We saw a wildly inappropriate exhibit of sexuality distorted and warped.
Please hear me when I say, this: It is not truth, it is not good, and there is nothing glamorous about it. Maturity doesn't come in the cheap sale of something so valuable. Value doesn't rise when something is thrown flippantly to all. (Tweet that.)
Don't hear me wrong, the fact that you and I, as girls, are sexual beings is nothing to be apologizing for. Don't be ashamed of it, but don't throw it to the dogs either.
You were made to awaken your sexuality in freedom, with no inhibitions and no audience. You were meant to explore your sexuality in freedom, with one man who's committed to love and cherish and adore you; no matter what. There is a time for that and it will come. I promise.
You are worth more. Miley is worth more. And when her audience has gawked enough, they will abandon her while her actions follow her into wherever the future leads. And while they're not unredeemable, they are pivotal.
Don't be fooled, sweet girls, by the glamour of what you saw. Be wiser. (Tweet, tweet.)~
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This weekend is a very special one for most of your congregation. But there may be a small (yet larger than you think) group of women who will sit in your pews and chairs, in silent pain.
I've always seen Mother's day as a regular holiday everyone celebrates with moms and grams and over priced Marie Callendar's Pot Pie. Until last year. My husband and I struggled through two miscarriages and words like "sorrow, loss, or grief" don't even begin to cover it. But the insight that has come out of that season has been irreplaceable.
From the Job Song, to women I've been able to meet and pray healing over and weep with and relate with, it has been a season, not of joy by any means, but of sweet and subtle redemption. That season has begun to redeem itself and for that I am grateful.
So why am I writing you?
Because as you stand on a platform and celebrate the amazing feat and journey of motherhood with the women attending your services, remember those who will never experience that, no matter how much they grasp for it.
No one should be ashamed of being a mother or celebrating mothers. That's just ridiculous. Motherhood is an amazing journey that changes the world. Life is life and it is worthy of being celebrated.
But please know, there will be women in the seats of your church services that may not show up because the emotional, physical, and even spiritual pain of this day will be too much.
And if they do, they deserve to be celebrated, even in prayer, as well. Your graciousness and love on them will mean the world. I promise.
Julianna Morlet, a mother of miscarriage
More on my experience through Mother's Day & Miscarriage :