I’m finding myself having to say these words often to my children.
Sometimes it is warranted and an acceptance of that apology is not something I deserve. Hopefully I have taught them grace, and they extend it to me anyway.
Other times they needed and deserved every ounce of disappointment, rage or berated lecture but the I’m sorry is an acknowledgment that I might be partly to blame for what put them in the situation in the first place.
So many people tell me I’m an amazing mother and I don’t give myself enough credit for doing the life changing work that motherhood demands.
The problem is I know I’m doing a great job, but it’s not enough. I’m selling my kids short. Overextending myself and failing everyone in the process. I don’t like disappointing people, especially myself.
So I find myself knowing that I’m not enough and then looking to my Heavenly Father to give me the strength to continue, to be the whatever it is I’m not. The father the girls don’t have, I don’t have. The comforter when I have no compassion. The encourager when I’ve given up hope.
And then my mantra echoes in my head like a cheerleader who knows the games is lost but wants to believe in her team anyway.
This too shall pass.