Gratitude Friday...

This morning we had to make a quick Target trip.  Well, nothing is really quick but we only had one thing to pick up.

Black pants.

So apparently, the band directors got really nice shirts this year.  As opposed to what was the ghetto stuff they were wearing before.  

(They looked totally fine to me.)

(Clearly, I don't know what I'm talking about.)

Of course, new shirts mean new pants.  Because we can't just get the same usual colors, like the school colors.  No, we need newer, nicer, better stuff in newer, nicer, better not-so-school-color-like colors.  

After we picked out the ONLY PAIR of black pants in Chris' size in the entire store, we made a loop around, just because, why not.  Then we went through the check out line, put the cart away and headed out the door.

Aubrey Kate walks slowly.  Not so much to the beat of her own drummer as it is to the drudge of a funeral procession.  

Per usual, that's the fastest pace she could manage to muster walking to the car.

And then I said the words mom's are not supposed to ever say to their children.

"Aubrey Kate, hurry up, please!"

I may have also added a, "Look, girly, Rhys and I are headed to the car and we sure would love for you to join us at some point.  Like today."

Cause, I rock at mommyhood.

The precious, wonderful, loving momma who wrote the blog post about never saying "hurry up" does not live in Texas.  Because there is no way you can escape saying them when you are standing on top of cement during a fabulous sunny 103 degree day carrying a 23 lbs blond-haired heater.  

(Apart from that, I totally get her point, by the way.  And took some good thoughts from her story.)

During my run earlier this morning, I had been thinking through all the categories we feel the need to put both ourselves and other people in.  All the advice and guidance moms, authors, doctors, psychiatrists and, yes, the random lady at the grocery store are passing out to...well...everyone.  

What kind of mom am I?  What label can I give myself?  

Helicopter?

Drill Sargent?

Sweet?

Spicy?

Hands free?

Homeschooler?

Intentional?

Passive?

Or maybe this:

I resemble that title.  (Buy the tee-shirt here.)

So there I was, thinking through all these labels and all the "advice" we get bombarded with daily and what I felt was God saying, lean on Me.  

There is no doubt I have been struggling with Aubrey Kate.  She is a creative, laid back, sensitive, precious girl.  With a cup full of stubborn.  Everyone thinks they have the solution to her.  A way to make her behave.  Become less of a challenge.  

But here's the truth:  She. Is. Three.

And no book anywhere can tell me more about my child than my Father who created her.  

Oh how we look to so many other things instead of going to our Creator first.

Then He reminded me of the joy on their faces when I pick them up from the kids' play area.  The shout from AK as she runs towards me, "MOMMY!"  And Rhys giggling, doing his best to get to me way faster than his little 13 month old legs will carry him.  

"You are not failing."

"You are loved and adored."

"Lean on me."

"I know what they need."

Those words leave this momma in humbled tears.  I don't need a book to "fix" my miracle three year old.  I don't need another article telling me where I am ruining my kids for life.  I don't need a box or a label or a category to try and fit myself into.  

I need to rest in my Father and know He will guide me.  

So grateful for those amazing moments when God lets me off the hook.  Comforts me.  Leads me.  

Reminds me to sprint towards Him, arms wide open yelling "FATHER" more often.