The volume had been high at home for a couple of days. Daughter had been struggling with issues, some known and some unknown. What is known is that life is hard at seven. Life is hard at 40-something. Life is just hard.
It is hard being here, in this broken place with broken people carrying around lofty expectations, when we were made to be there, in that perfect place, in heaven with God. Yet our faith requires us to live a life of not yet in a very broken now.
I am the first to admit that home is broken and to be clear, I am not getting divorced. We are simply imperfect and still figuring out how to be “healthy” in a sick space. For as hard as it is for us, it somehow seems compounded for daughter.
She had been riddled with anxiety and acting out more so than usual those couple of days. I tried so hard to figure it out. As a mommy, my heart bled for the hurt I could see as she lashed out, yelling and seemingly out of control. There must be a reason, something I could fix. Read Full Article →