Refuge

My son takes refuge in my comfort. There isn't a day that goes by where my very active three year old son climbs up in my lap just to have me wrap my arms around him tight.

He will squish his arms between the spot where our two bodies meet in the embrace, to experience the most warmth in a hug.

My active boy is a mere three, but I have noticed a few things that I must share. 

Scene: yesterday, cumulus clouds covered the sky overhead, spots of blue peeked through as we stepped onto the play ground. In a flash my son is climbing the steps to the closest slide and he squeals as he slides down. Bursting with laughter he runs over to where I stand and grabs my hand. He's leading me to the same slide. "Mommy slide with me" is a request I always fulfill. We climb to the top and he slides down first- "I'll catch you mom". He slides down and stops just shy of the edge of the slide. His ninja turtle light-up sneakers glow as he stands up on the bottom of the slide and launches himself superhero style off the slide. Now the moments after turned from him extending his arms to "catch" mommy at the bottom to him mid launch taking a turn for the worst and his face making contact with the wooden chunks that take the place of sand. Immediately whimpers strike my ears and like super woman I jumped off the top of the slide and landed on the ground about 3 feet away from my shaken son. Before I even bend down to his mere 38 inches, he is already at my knees looking up at me with his wet eyes just waiting to release the water works. As super mom I give him a brief once over to insure there is no blood or cuts. Once there are no signs of immediate damage to my boy I pull him in for a tight hug and I tell him he is okay. And without argument he says in response "yes, I am okay".


As I reflect I see my son knowing that

• mom will indulge his playtime by joining in like a 3 year old herself

• mom is superwoman 

• mom's embrace will fix the owies

There are countless days where I am hard on myself for being too tough, or being too soft, being not totally involved in playtime, or being overly childish myself. I needed to write this not for YOU but for myself really. I need to come back and read this when I am feeling like I am just not being "good enough" which is almost every day.
I need to remember the moments I share with my son, even the ones where he face plants off of a slide, or pours flour all over my freshly mopped floor. In the world where we are flooded with other peoples lives and the expectation of how parenting should be, how you should react, what to eat, what to do basically in every situation you could possibly imagine. Its overwhelming. I have said it before, and Ill say it again "I'm doing the best I can, and my son is more often happy than upset." I will take that.

The fact that I noticed my son finding relief in my embrace makes me feel like superhero. So if i dont manage to get the meat for dinner defrosted, and its an "every man for themselves" dinnertime - it is okay. Saving and nurturing HIS world is a tough job, but with God's help I am doing an awesome job.

until next time.
-The Real Mommy Tsunami.

Fearfully and Wonderfully made.

So I posted a photo on Instagram. I found it to be quite controversial, at least in my own mind.

I found myself to be beautiful and for me to be shocked about the fact that I couldn't say that about myself easier is quite bizarre -don't ya think?
Im staring at my nails. Bright red. Vixen like. And inside I smile for a moment but then my smile turns into a look of deep in thought. Where a battle is happening within me for the right to think that about myself. Am I basing it off of societies standards or my own. Will someone think my nails are too bright of a red and call me slutty or something? My thoughts go deeper.
I know the truth about myself so why should I care. Thats the problem. Right there. I care. I care too deeply, and I care so much.--Some would call my care: love. I love too deeply, I love too hard...

I was told All my life to live like Jesus would. So why does it shock me that I would love like he did, would, and does love to this day.
As I tap the keys on my computer my mind is becoming happy. This happening because once again God made his presence to me well known in a lesson he guided me to.

He is telling me to absolutely think I am beautiful. Because he made me.
He is telling me that I am doing a good job of trying to stay close to him, and trying to grow my relationship within him.
He is telling me that I am loved.

People will and do look at me like I am crazy when I say I know Gods voice, I can literally hear it.
I am sitting in a relaxed position, the TV is off, my phone is blowing up but I refuse to look at it right now. The window is open next to me and a cool breeze blows in knocking my shades. The smell of wet grass is lingering in the air after this glorious rain we just had. Everything is amazing. Right here right now. I could live in this moment.
God is showing me that I am to love just as he loves. Which is everybody. No matter your PAST, or your PRESENT or your FUTURE. He LOVES YOU. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14) see that YOU ARE WONDERFUL. You. Yes you. The person reading this. You are darn Wonderful!
And guess what I love you. I don't even know you as well as God knows you (and he knows you're wonderful too) but I still love you.
So to end my thought. I am beautiful. And so are you. Make-up no Make-up, Fit or Un-fit, tattooed or not, Long hair, short hair. We are all beautiful. Because I am Fearfully (Awesomely) and Wonderfully made.

So I am a woman, therefore I have breasts.

As time goes on I see a constant battle between my clothing and my boobs. 

As a curvy girl who remains active- 

I am not about to lie down and take the "you must change what you are wearing" bit simply because a man cannot control himself and is placing the blame on me for his own eyes and thoughts. 

I found this blog post that I really appreciate and agree with.

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/worldview/christian-cleavage-probably-isnt-problem

 From a biblical standpoint and everything-- please do not blame me for your eyes, or your thoughts. God tells us to take those thoughts captive and it's our own job- not the other person, place or thing.