Parenting is hard. It's funny and blessed and extraordinary, but damn is it hard.
Nearly five years in, we still don't know what we're doing most days. There are a few things I know in my heart to be true and good and us, and everything else we're learning as we grow, adjusting our sails as winds, seasons, and children change.
But that all sounds a bit more romantic than it is. Many days feel more like crash and burn in spectacular defeat (and oft public humiliation).
So like the phoenix, we pick ourselves up from the ash. We mark our foreheads, shaking the dust from our feet and the devil from our backs.
We weep and repent.
We lament with friends who give not Answers but priceless Me, too.
We practice resurrection together.
We'll take confession if you like. What's hard? What helps? How do you find peace in parenting when it's most fleeting?
