I can always run home

I adore my mom.

I really, really do.

I think that I have always adored her. I adored her in the way that little gals adore a mom, while taking her for granted. I wonder why we as children do that? Why?.....When my mom is doing all that she knows to do, to be the best mom she can be, do I pull her close then push her away? Then, when I need her, I'll pull her close in order to be supported by the love of a mother that nothing else can compare to and then, push against that love when I feel strong enough to be independent once again. It's like a match of tug-o-war that has gone on for 3 decades now...and she has never let go of her end of the rope. As a mom she has taken the steps forward when I needed her to and stepped back when I was through with her for the time being. How selfish we can be in our immaturity...and even well beyond the immature age. I no longer want to take her for granted.
When I think of my mom, when I think of the way her love has quite literally saved my life in many various ways, I am thankful!
Thankful to the point of my heart filling up till it hurts with thanks.
I am thankful, because I know, without my mom having to say anything.....that I can always run home.
I am thankful that even now, at the age of 32, I can run to my mommy. Me, having been married 2 months shy of 13 years now and birthing not 2 but 3 beautiful children; I can still for a brief moment lay down all of my hurt, stress, responsibilities and any semblance of adlthood and lay my head on my mom's lap....without her passing judgment and me not feeling a hint of disappointment from her....

I can fall apart.

I can crumble into a pile of tears and snot....shed my biggirl skin and let the littlegirl emerge for just a brief moment in time. The littlegirl who isn't quite sure she can do this thing called "grow-up". The littlegirl who's heart has been shredded once again. (Shredded mostly by the lies that she maybe "believed" instead of "sent packing"!) But the reason doesn't matter. A mother's love has a way of looking past the reason and just comforting the broken heart.
So I lay my head on my mom's lap...and my mom will rub my hair...my mom will drop everything....my mom will place the unconditional love of a mom up under me and wrap it around me....and you know what? It does help. And it does heal.
I know this because I recently "ran home". My heart was quite thoroughly broken. My strength was all gone. I couldn't keep the tears from coming and I wondered if I could do this thing called "being a woman" much longer. I was hurt. I was confused. I was horribly angry.
But my mama didn't care.
The reason for that is because I believe that the love of my mother is quite similar to the love of God. No my mom isn't like God and I know that she is not perfect, nor would I want her to be. But, the point I am trying to make is that God sees our hearts. He sees everything that is in there: The good, the bad, the unlikable and downright unlovable, and like a mother....
He loves us....
through the snot, tears, skinned-knees, anger and pain. God loves us.
Period.
Just like my mom.

I like myself! A lot!

To some, that might be a statement that sounds prideful or conceited. To others it may seem unimportant and irrelevant. But, to someone who has gone through most of their life trying to be someone that 'others' like and approve of?....well.... it is more of a statement that is hinted with a strong tone of genuine surprise!
This revelation came to full fruition this summer when I was blessed to go traipsing through Alaska with dad, mom, sister and brother-in-law, who by all counts are some of the very best company one could ask for. With a variety of adventures on the calendar and a spirit of childlike excitement, I left my family, husband, daughter and 2 sons, behind and went to go find myself....although I didn't know I had been lost till a couple weeks later.
By now, I have been a girl for 32 years, a wife for almost 13 of those and a mother for 12. Most of those years were spent trying to fit into someone else's idea of who I was supposed to be. I don't wish to be misunderstood though. I have most definitely had a wonderful life with more fun, silly, just plain great, memories than can fit into my head! But the older I've gotten, wiser really, I realize that most of those times I was trying to not be myself.
Whether church, friends, society, body type, etc can be blamed, it's hard to say. The finger can most likely be pointed at an odd mixed cocktail of them all put together, but the bottom line and the end result is that 'I'...the real me...was not good enough. Was not thin enough, 'sin-free' enough, funny enough, smart enough, intriguing enough, sexy enough. Whew, truly exhausting is what it was.
So, when I left behind all the hats that I have worn for sooo very long, and once the hat hair had worn off, I found myself in Alaska. In Alaska without anyone's lunch to pack, without meals to prepare, without hugs to give, without bottoms to wipe, without anyone else's expectations for me and without all the things that have completely and utterly defined me for over 13 years now. And you know what I found?

Me.
And I found that I like me.

I like my quirky sense of humor. I like that I am 'crafty'; that I can look at almost anything and think of a craft to make with it. I like that God gave me a voice to sing with. I like that I am a good friend. I like that I am considerate of others' feelings. (Well, at least more often than not.) I like that I love to read. I like that I love the color green. I really would have no problem going on and on, which may strike some people as my being rude. But I've decided, that after having been down on myself for so long and the fact that it feels so good to like myself more, that I think everyone should like me. ;)
And!.... with all kidding aside, if your heart wants to, you should make a list of what you like about yourself because I am confident that you will find that you are just as likable as me! =D