Fraud.

Here's the thing...
I am so not even close to perfect.
I have never been, and will never be.
And, quite frankly...I don't want to be.
I don't even think perfect exists.

Blair and I had to speak in our Church meeting a week or so ago. 
I chose to speak on Hope; being as that it is a topic very close to my heart.
I felt it and I meant it....and to me, that is what spirituality is about.
Spirituality is finding those pieces of truth that strike your core and clinging to them when the ride gets a little too rough.
I need to believe my pieces of truth, and I do.

After the talks were given (thank freaking goodness), people were very kind and graciously mentioned they appreciated our thoughts that Sunday.  Different conversations ensued, and different ideas for really far-fetched future endeavours were thrown into the universe.

That day, and those conversations, began a spiral of thoughts that my poor husband and poor friends have been randomly subjected to at any given time.
The thoughts have mostly seemed to be migrating around this one central question: 
Am I really this person I write about? 
(You know, the one on this blog...)

After much deliberation...
My answer is yes.
Yes, I am.
Or, at least I am attempting to be.

I am trying to be a good person...just like the rest of you.
Do I succeed all the time?
Absolutely Not.
I am positive I have not been kind to all of you, all of the time.
Especially if you count Junior High and High School (please don't.)
You have probably seen me at my worst, in my car, honking mercilessly at the crappy driver in front of me
Or, maybe you have seen me out and about...
...Passed by me while in a grocery store and wondered why I didn't take the few seconds of time it requires to stop and say "Hi."

These things may be true.
But, I promise you that I pray with my daughter every night that I will be more kind tomorrow.
And, I genuinely really want to be.

I am trying to be a good mother.
Do I succeed all the time?
Not even close.
Hell, my own kid ate his urine soaked, shredded diaper Sunday morning while my lazy butt was trying to play sleep catch up.
And...my daughter wrote me a song and poem describing her feelings of frustration with my lack of awesome parenting. (Also on Sunday...it was def not a good mom day for me apparently).

These things may be true.
But...I promise you that they know I love them with my entire being.
And, I genuinely really want to be a good mother.

I am sincere.
I am not writing fraudulent checks, through this journal,  in the name of a perfectional state that I am pretending to be a part of.
I am just trying my best.
...Clinging to that tattered and over-used thread of hope that allows me to believe that trying my best is good enough...and okay. 
And knowing that intertwined within this spool of hope is a deep-rooted and thick thread of daily forgiveness.
That is the key to moving forward.
The key to trying again to be that awesomely perfect friend and wonderfully devoted mother...
...tomorrow.