You name. She'll top it. Seriously.
And when I read posts like she posted today, I feel that old familiar poison of comparison seeping into my veins. My kids don't go to school. They don't give oral reports, play baseball, or paint in the style of Clementine Hunter. None of these opportunities are available to them. I don't pack lunches or juggle club schedules. In fact, most days, the kids and I are in our pjs until 9, they playing on the rug and me sipping coffee and watching the birds land on the neighbor's pagoda.
As I read the post, the poison starts to affect my mind and now I am sitting with my old enemy, worry. Are my kids missing too much by living over here? Will they hate me for this? Will I regret the decisions we are making on their behalf, to keep them home, to teach them differently, to run our household in this rather odd way?
But just as curiosity killed the cat, comparison killed the housewife. I can read my sweet friend's blog post and be happy for her and her wonderful family. I can rejoice in their triumphs and their beauty, recognizing that what makes their lives victorious does not imply that mine is a failure. In fact, the one has no bearing on the other. God has called everyone to a unique, custom-made life that only that person and that family are meant for.
What my kids are learning, most American kids miss out on. I know that, and yet, I compare. L0RD help me to be content with my life, and not covet the plans you have for others. Amen.
p.s. Thank you for letting me throw you under the bus, Candace. Or I guess put you on a pedestal, however you choose to look at it. You're tough enough to handle it, I know;)
|Did I mention she's also a photographer? Oh yes, and a fantastic one at that. Just look at this pic! The girl is amazing.|