Will I ever be good enough?

It’s a phrase I caught myself thinking today. And it came into my mind and out of my mouth before I could even recognize it for the garbage it is.

Everywhere I turn there seems to be a reminder of all the ways I’m not measuring up.

There’s dishes piled in the sink that I haven’t gotten to yet.

I wonder if I’ll ever be a good enough homemaker.

I check my phone and remember the messages I haven’t replied to, yet again. “I have GOT to get back to her,” I think. But I lock the screen and finish the morning routine, because a coherent reply just isn’t happening in the midst of this chaos.

I wonder if I’ll ever be a good enough friend.

I finally make it to the car and see the dirty floor mats that desperately need to be vacuumed and yesterday's coffee cup that never made it inside --> see above for the pile of dishes that need my attention.

I wonder if I’ll ever keep things clean enough.

I get my kids to school only to remember that today is water day and I’ve forgotten swimsuits, and the baby is out of diapers...forgot those, too.

I wonder if I'll ever be a good enough mom.

I make it to work, later than planned (^ swimsuits, and let’s just be honest, kids), and find 54 unanswered emails full of impending deadlines and people needing answers I simply don’t have.

I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough at my job.

I finish the last bites of my popcorn for lunch and think, ‘What happened to meal planning? You’ve got to get back on track.’

I wonder if I’ll ever be satisfied with this body.

Before I know it, I’ve cut myself down in almost every way possible.

And you know what? IT’S ALL LIES.

Sometimes my plate is so full of things to do and tasks to accomplish, that it doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything well.

Leaving early from this to be late to that. Forgetting this because my head is so jumbled with all of that. Snapping at him about this because I’m stressed about that. Letting this fall through the cracks so I can focus on that.

Here’s the thing, mommas: We’re not perfect. But we were fearfully and wonderfully made by someone who is.

And we’re never going to be able to do it all, but I don’t think we were ever made to.

So why are we running around and stressing out and absolutely killing ourselves trying to be everything to everyone all the time and then beating ourselves up when can’t keep all the balls in the air?

We weren’t made to do it all. And what we’re doing? Well, it’s more than good enough. It’s great.

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