I was standing at the kitchen table while the children ate their cheese on toast for dinner. One hand holding a plump plum, it's juices running down my chin and arm. The other scrolling on the track pad of the Mac - checking my emails and supervising dinner, a common scenario.
Dressed in a sloppy striped cotton top, mascara under my eyes, unsightly hair on my legs and unwashed, unbrushed tresses atop my head, I was being studied by my newly 3 year old daughter. Her eyes scanned my exhausted frame before she tilted her head slightly to the right, smiled and remarked 'I wish I could be you mum.'
And you know what, she meant it.
I'm her mother. Her earthly nurturer. Her example.
I've never had a stronger desire to be 'whole' than I do right now. To be confident and capable. To be present and attentive. Kind, loving, warm and comforting. To wear hairs on my legs with an unabashed pride and to demonstrate self worth from the inside out.
I'm so broken. So not who I want to be. But to my daughter, I'm perfect.
It's with intentionality, prayer and patience that I'm moving forward.
See you on the flip side.