Superwoman

I ain't no superwoman. In fact, if a fly on the wall could talk, it would feel the same as Erma Bombeck once said about a housewife checking the tenderness of a rump roast in the oven. "Why don't you just push the frump in and end her misery?"

I don't feel miserable. Or that my life is misery. I do feel slightly sarcastic towards a "superwoman." That phrase conjures up a mental image of an early riser that is showered, dressed, combed, devotioned, and lotioned by 730 sharp and pops her overnight French toast in the oven. (I popped overnight French toast in the oven last Satureday. I didn't feel I needed to have devotions.) She zooms around on her tightly fastened Reebox that support her lower back and boost her energy by 75%.

I will venture to say that mommies are "superwoman" enough. Afterall, our "price is far above rubies." God gave each of our friends different gifts and priorities so we could compliment each other and fill in the gaps.

He also had a plan for me when he created me. He knew  could handle motherhood...being a wife...a friend...a virtuous Christian woman. (notice I didn't say superwoman?) He knew everyday wouldn't be no storybook. In fact, he KNOWS what an everyday is! And he just sits there patiently until I take the time to have coffee with HIM. Even if it takes a week. (I know. Yup. Bless you. You devotion every morning.)

God didn't make me a superwoman. But he created me. And he said I am ENOUGH!

(I don't mean to preach. I'm just saying.)