About the Cracked Pot

About Me pages are so…tedious. And uninspiring. And formulaic! Which just won’t do, here.

As a proud INTP, individuality has always been the hallmark of my personality. That and NumberQuest. (A math board game with which I used to torture my siblings.)

Some ungenerous souls have even condescended to call me odd, but I prefer more lively titles, if you please. If you can’t have fun (and use plenty of dry humor) in relating a tale, what’s the point? (Come now, you unconvinced analyticals. I heard that eyeball roll. But even you are dying to find out why I’m cracked. Come on, you know you have to know why.)

Perhaps it was all the Dilbert comics I devoured when I was 8 years old.

Perhaps it is because I am a neglected middle child. (This is where my oldest sister shakes her head. Honey, you think YOU had it hard. Try being the GUNEA PIG.)

Perhaps it WAS all the NumberQuest. That I played against myself. While watching movies. And keeping score in my head. (Because, relaxation time is for doing 4 things simultaneously, right?)

I survived (by the Grace of God and the eternal patience of my mother) that wretched period called teenage-hood where I desperately wanted to fit in and simultaneously longed for it to be ok to be myself. Eventually, I arrived at an age older than I ever imagined I’d be, with less children driving me more insane than I’d anticipated at said juncture…and the revelation that all the parts of me that I thought had to be remade to be acceptable had suddenly, remarkably, been crafted into this version of me called mother. Technically, it’s pronounced, “MOM-MEEE!” Said at the top of a toddler’s lungs from the toilet seat, or the six-year-old who found a carpenter ant on the back porch, convinced the creature will rouse its cohorts to dismantle our abode by dinnertime.

If you’re still reading, you either identify with a piece of this ride…or you’re still trying to discern any coherency of thought (because you were promised an explanation)…or you’re my mom (reading because she’s incredibly supportive and amazing…hi, Mom!)

Let’s recap the important points, for those who fell down any of my rabbit trails: I’m a mother. I fall on my face daily. I still love math games. I’ve learned that best laid plans still come down to the rubber and road of a toddler’s teething, meltdowns of an ADHD child, miscarriage, the NICU, sleep deprivation, postponed dreams, endless construction-site-meets-3-ring-circus of a houseful of wild and incredible men (including the one I married), the impulse to buy every digital bundle…and the realization my last shipment of dark chocolate accidentally went out of state because technology auto-filled the wrong address. (I hope my oldest sister enjoyed the chocolate. Its small compensation for putting up with me all these years. And being the guinea pig.)

Thankfully, my best laid plans are also in the Hands of my loving Savior, who weaves the threads of my life – the beautiful, the messy, the painful –  into a tapestry more glorious than I could ever imagine. It’s through His pain and atonement this broken heart has been bound up and restored, through His endless grace my petty soul has been enlarged to offer grace to others, and to Him I offer this gift, my little life, and my unending praise in Eternity.