I’ve spoken at a couple of churches recently, specifically to women, and have felt the innate need to begin with confession. Whether it’s a lame struggle, or the fact that my hubby and I just got in an argument, or that my son scolded me for being a “bad mommy” I want to convey that I am just.like.you. And I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I hear speakers, I assume their life is rosy and champagney and that their children are perfect, and they never get adult acne. So I pretty much level the playing field by letting fellow ladies know that yes, indeed, I am real. A real mess.
So I may as well confess to you that I didn’t want to go to church tonight. Lame excuses but they are as follows: