Imagine this: I’m at a friend’s baby shower. My firstborn, Molly, is just a few months old. The mom-to-be opens all the normal goodies … adorable outfits, burpie cloths, diapers.
She then opens a book by James Dobson… parenting guru… Focus on the Family … Ph.D. You know, the James Dobson.
Want to know my first thought? “I don’t need that.” No, I’m not kidding. I was a mother for a whopping three months and declared myself wiser than Dr. Dobson. Good grief. How could I stand myself?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out I wasn’t such an “ace” at this parenting thing. I spent years, though, still trying to act like I had it all figured out.
Somewhat of a challenge when you’re chasing your three-year-old who’s running with abandon up and down the aisles of Books-A-Million screeching like a banshee.
Or when your little boy walks out of the church bathroom into the sanctuary with his underwear around his ankles.
Talk about exposure.
Nope, 12 years later, I’m not thinkin’ “I don’t need that” so much anymore. In fact, Dr. Dobson, if you’re listening … I’d gladly build a wing for you onto my home.
I don’t have all the answers. But I know the One who does.
And He does live in my house and is on call 24/7. Heaven knows I need Him.