Reality TV? No. Real life? Yes. When I ask myself who challenges me to be who I am, I have to say my children. They are that age. With all the applications and games they install on their cell phones, the one thing puberty does for a teen is their own installation of hypocrisy detectors. It’s like some hyper sensitive setting on some human GPS. Ding, ding, ding. You have arrived at your destination.
Fake on the left.
Liar on the right.
Phony in front of you.
Posers. All around.
Time to get real. It’s too hard to be who I’m not. So, I don’t. I don’t play poker; I can’t do the face. What’s in my mind, is on my face, out my mouth.
So, I fail. I apologize. I fail. They fail. I teach them to apologize.
I get frustrated. They get frustrated. We deal with it. We cry. We pray. (I cry some more in my bedroom)
They, the three left at home, challenge me in ways I wasn’t challenged with the other two. I’m older, softer, harder, tested, tired, hopefully wiser, constantly wondering, less turbulent, more patient, honoring their future, learning from the past.
They challenge me to be the mother they deserve; the mother God wants me to be.
Don at donhillson.wordpress.com
Beckie at free2b2much.blogspot.com