the {real} me

My mother was exceptional. Unlike most teenage girls, I just wanted her with me all the time. When I was feeling awkward or insecure, Mama fixed it. Sometimes I even wondered if my friends liked me because she was so cool. (I never did ask about that and don’t plan to…)

I’m over at Allume today talking about fear and Mama and being real. But mostly the point is obedience to Christ… Come visit?

I wasn’t much like my Mama. I loved her. I always wanted her around. But my personality was so vastly different that I knew I would never be able to step into her role. 

So instead, I created another, different, “better” role to fill. I devised a sophisticated, tall (I really was tall for my age at one point in my life) non-frizzy haired, model Christian that existed only in my head (or at a great distance).

Mama would whisper things to me at times. Things about God calling us to not fear and about using gifts and not burying them in hopes of something different. I didn’t always listen very well.