After stumbling upon shamrock sprinkles, she was firmly in the St. Patrick's camp. And off we went with orange and green food dye, debates about who in her class would pick which flavor cupcake, and not a little bit of fussing at baby sister who was constantly trying to steal the cooling desserts. My almost five year old was in pure sugar-birthday-love bliss.
The morning of, she was glowing. She was so excited for "her day" and "her cupcakes" and woke up even earlier than her normal horribly early time to tell me all about what lay ahead. And off she went to school, confident her momma would be there in a few short hours, baby sister and cupcakes in tow. And that was the plan.
And then, in typical "my life" fashion, we were running late. And Baby K had hidden my car keys. And a dog got loose. And I just knew once again I would be speeding into the school parking lot, practically on two wheels, rushing to make sure I didn't let her down.
And as I am ushering all the crazy out the door into the car, I look down at the cupcakes. The cupcakes with the perfected icing color and little swirls she worked so hard on and the sprinkles so precisely placed. There they were. All 20 of them. Tipped over inside the container. Icing smearing the sides, tiny shamrock sprinkles lining the cracks of the holder.
So, I did what any rational preggo would do. I sat down on our front steps and cried. Baby K facing me from her stroller in the middle of our yard, the dogs still barking from the foyer, the old woman who lives down the street doing her daily walk with her giant 1995 headphones ... and I just cried. Those kind of exhausted tears when it has been a day, a week, a month of little trials. The tears that feel like they have been building with every misplaced shoe or cross word said out of frustration or reminder that you messed up again.
And I looked at those stupid cupcakes and thought "How could I have possibly not even gotten this one small thing right?" And in those words every insecurity I have ever had - as a mother, as a wife, a friend, a daughter - came bubbling up. I thought of the 5th grade and being so excited to take in my own birthday treats - teeny little cakes in the shape of Christmas tress that my own sweet momma had lovingly helped me make the night before. How I was so proud and happy and ready to share ... and I dropped them. In all my ten year old grace, I dropped them in front of the entire class. And I felt the heat creeping into my cheeks - here in Ga - hundreds of miles and two decades away. It all came rushing back.
So, I cried. For my own faults. For the fear that those faults would effect my own sweet girls. For all the times it just felt like I wasn't enough. And then I scooped up a cooing baby K, threw the mangled cupcakes in the car, and just started driving. I wasn't sure exactly what my plan was but ended up at McDonald's, ordering six bottles of water and "as many napkins as you can give me. Oh! And some plastic spoons and knives." I slid the container open as carefully as I could, level by level, righting the fallen cupcakes as I went. I scrubbed the sides of the cupcake pan and reswirled the icing. All right there, in the parking lot.
And I pulled into the school two minutes before I had to be there, cupcakes intact, if not missing a little bit of their original volume and icing.
B clapped when she saw us. She announced proudly to her class she had made the cupcakes. She glowed as they sang to her and was so happy to walk around to each friend and offer them their choice of vanilla or chocolate. She told her daddy that night it was the best day of the year for her at school.
This week in Bible study, we talked about the lies the world tells us or that we tell ourselves. I said the lie I constantly tell myself is that I am not enough. In every way, I fall short. In no way have I ever felt that as acutely than as a mother. Before these sweet babies, if I was a mess and a half, it affected no one, really, except myself. But now, every action not only has an immediate ripple effect on their lives but also has long lasting effects, influencing who they will be as they grow.
The other challenge for us this week was to find a Bible verse to counteract the lies we are told. Quickly, 2 Corinthians 12:9 popped up for me:
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
He is enough. I may drop cupcakes and yell because we are running late and have to rewash the laundry four times because I am not sure when I last ran it. And that is all okay. Because His power will be made perfect in my weakness. And I am showing up. And I am trying. And the most important thing I can model to these babies is that I am not enough, but that is okay. I don't need to be enough by any wordly standards. His grace is sufficient.
