Every parent wants their children to be extraordinary – to stand out in the crowd for their accomplishments and character. Everyone wants to raise uncommon kids.
I’m no different.
But raising uncommon kids takes uncommon effort. It’s not something that happens over night, but something that happens over a lifetime.
Common parents, like myself, need a roadmap to help us develop uncommon children. Thankfully there is one.
I used to believe that I was the only woman who struggled with my identity as a wife and mother. Since my marriage, I’ve wanted to embrace the new role I’d been given – homemaker. But part of me has always wanted more.
When I read the description of this book, I knew I had to read and review it.
Emily was telling my story.
I don’t know about you, but motherhood isn’t exactly what I envisioned it to be. Growing up, I thought I had it all figured out. I was always good with kids, getting them to comply and do what I wanted them to do. As a teacher, I was able to motive my students and encourage them to great heights. I thought I had this parenting thing in the bag.
Boy was I wrong.
I love books that encourage and inspire. Sitting down with The Beauty of Grace, edited by Dawn Camp, is like sitting down with a group of close friends. The women in this book are so open and raw in the way they share their hearts with us readers.
Several entries touched me in a profound way. I identified with the woman scared of losing her child after dealing with infertility. I cried with the woman who didn’t even have $2 to pay for bananas. I felt like I was with these women in the intimate moments discovering God’s work in their lives.
In reading their stories, I was forced to slow down and think about my story. How is God revealing Himself to me right now? Do I see him in the everyday moments while my son plays with his toys or asks me to read him the story of David and Goliath for the seventeenth time today? Do I have heart-to-heart times with my Savior while up to my elbows in soap suds?
I was nine years old when I drove the snowmobile into a tree. The accident was a tragic combination of childish exuberance, inexperience, and youthful invincibility. The worst part – I wasn’t wearing a helmet.
When the machine stopped so quickly, my unprotected face slammed into steering column. I won’t get into the details of my injuries, but it took almost two hundred stitches to repair the impact lacerations on my left cheek. It still amazes me that I didn’t lose my eye, sever a nerve, or break any bones.
But the real trauma occurred when I returned to school.
My son’s tears course down his cheeks and it’s my fault. My heart hurts. I gave into frustration and lost my temper. My raised voice wounded this precious child.
Before giving birth, I had this whole parenting thing figured out. I taught preschool for years. I knew how to motivate children to do right.
Or so I thought.