I know your stress. It’s deep. It’s binding—the chaining of emotions to unattainable perfection.
I used to be you.
My young married years were spent attempting to be Martha Stewart. I’d spend endless hours crafting homemade gifts, baking delicious desserts, and decorating every nook and cranny of my home with properly themed colors.
Before we were married, my husband and I purchased a small Christmas tchotchke at the Dollar Tree—Christmas lettered out as a train in cartoonish fashion. For years I hid it from plain view because it didn’t match my themes.
Those early years soon led to children who helped hang ornaments on the tree. In huge clumps. Gaping holes everywhere. At night I would secretly rearrange their vision of beauty into my idea of perfect.
The sad truth is I spent so many hours attempting to create perfection, the joy of the season escaped me.
In more recent years, I uncovered a secret.
To continue reading, please click here as I share my heart with Orlando Moms Blog today.