About #realness and Being a Cog

This seems to be my personality lately:

Not nearly the woman, wife, mom, Christ follower I'd hoped to be at this stage in my life.
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This morning I just knew today would be great. I could totally accomplish the simple list that needed to be tackled for the day. I accidentally hit a button on messgenger that had me taking selfies with flowers that air brushed me and covered my "5 head" with cute flowers. Then life.
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Spurts of energy and high aspirations have me signing up for co-op meet-ups, open houses, topical Homeschool lessons, museum outings, and more.
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Then reality hits hard, 6 kids daily needs add up, I remember I'm exhausted by interaction [even just my family], my body is getting older, my mental capacity can't keep up with my well intended service, and all I want to do is write, or close my eyes to make the head ache stop.
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God is trying to rewrite this story I had written so deep in me. What I thought was my fairytale, happy ending, no-really-I-have-my-life-all-together novel.
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The #realness is--> I, my friends, do not have an airbrushed life. I am a cog.
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A worn down, rusty, not very large, seemingly insignificant cog, yet vital part of whatever awesomeness God is working for HIS STORY. His fairytale. His happy ending. His, you'll-never-have-it-together-but-I-always-do novel.

 

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see that tiny purple piece inside the orange one? that's me--> tiny cog

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