Dear Mommy Bloggers,
It’ another week where I’m struggling to get a post up. Another week where there isn’t going to be enough time to complete my to-do list. But it’s okay because there has been something on my mind for the past few months, and I want to share it with you today. The timing is good for a gentle reminder about what this mommy blogger gig is all about.
I want to talk to you about being real.
Honest. Truthful. Transparent.
As a blogger. One mom to another.
You see, people are watching you and me, reading what we have to say. And many will cling to anything we say, taking it at face value.
What I mean is this: they will believe us.
And then they will begin to compare themselves to us. And if we are not being truthful with them about what it’s really like at in our homes — in our lives — they are likely comparing themselves to a standard no one can really achieve.
I know because I’ve been that kind of reader. The one reading about a house where life seems perfect — homeschooling is filled with amazing books, projects, field trips, and moms who never fall off the planner. Moms who have a spotless house, get dinner on the table at the same time every night (complete with homemade bread), gently tuck all 7 kids into bed after a bubble baths underneath handmade quilts, conduct family devotions and prayers, and then blog all about it on a blog that is beautifully styled and well-written. And in the blink of an eye, create beautiful chore charts and planners so I can be perfect, too.
Meanwhile, I’m sinking into a pit of laundry and dirty dishes, another day when not enough learning happened, dinner came from Taco Bell, fighting my only child to go to bed by midnight, and then once again, sitting here writing that blog post that should have gone up 2 days ago, and attempting to get some work done because I’m still behind, weary and exhausted, wondering what is wrong with me that I cannot do it all as easily as you seem to.
And I’ve been the less-than-transparent kind of blogger, too. The one painting the picture through rose-colored glasses. Not really lacking truth so much as just not sharing the difficult parts of homeschool and life. It’s easy to fall into the trap of only writing about the times I feel successful, happy, smart, or creative. The beautiful projects, the perfect field trips, the days when my student seems like a little genius. But skip writing about those days when I failed miserably, lost my temper, or only made it through the homeschool day thanks to DVD rentals from the library. You know the days I’m talking about. The ones when I realize my 9th grader is still struggling with math, refuses to write a paragraph, and spent far too much time on the iPad (and let’s not pretend that all of those apps are educational). And me? I never made it out of my jammies, much less took a shower.
Writing about one and not the other is the opposite of real.
It’s hurtful, really.
And sinful.
Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. (Colossians 3:9-10)
“You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; you shall not lie to one another. (Leviticus 19:11)
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:15-16)
Better is a poor person who walks in his integrity than one who is crooked in speech and is a fool. (Proverbs 19:1)
So, please, sweet sister . . . let’s not do that.
Let’s not make life look grander than it is.
Let’s be honest about our shortcomings.
Let’s tell the truth about how hard it is.
Let’s come along side other moms with encouraging words, that simply show none of us can do it all, and everything we are able to accomplish is only done through the filter of His power and grace.
Let’s all be real, okay?
with love,
Marcy