I haven’t been giving my best. I’ve been lazy and distracted and preoccupied.

I’ve been serving up leftovers to my family while expecting they give their best.

Why should I expect my children to give their best if I only give them my leftovers?

Why should I expect unconditional love from my husband if I only give him leftovers?

Aaron asked me the other day when I’m going to start living the stuff I write on my blog.

Ouch. (said in my best ET voice)

That was a wakeup call for me. Sure, I struggle with living authentically. And I’ve been doing exactly what disgusts me in other people: preaching and quoting the Bible on social media and my blog and living a 180.

If my husband calls me out, who else is noticing? The kids.

God.

What about when I give God my leftovers?

Who am I kidding?

God should always get my best. Yet, I squeeze in a Bible devo on my iPhone app when I’m doing chores. I rush through a Bible story my kids beg me to read. I’m distracted when I should be listening and praying along to my kids’ prayers.

I’m a poor example to my family when I don’t give my best. I’m not intentional with my time. My family deserves quality and quantity.

When I give God my best, my leftovers are much more meaningful and purposeful for my family.

They don’t seem like leftovers so much as spillover of God’s love.

My family and blog are ministries. And I’m not doing that great a job.

Forgive me, God. Forgive me, family. Forgive me, readers.

I think Christian women love to attack each other over the discussion of Biblical submission. Because that’s what Jesus wants, right? That holier than thou attitude.

Yep, I sure know what the Bible says and I’ll bet you do too.

Different denominations seem to have all sorts of doctrines and teach different aspects of how they interpret it. I’ve been damaged by some of those interpretations and some would consider that spiritual abuse or something. Whatev.

Since I didn’t grow up in church or knowing Biblical teachings, I had to seek God, read the Bible for myself, and discuss with my husband what we wanted for our family. The extremist position of no makeup, long skirts and uncut hair didn’t appeal to my husband, who grew up Presbyterian. Yay for that, because it’s quite a bit much for me. And most of those women I’ve encountered shun our family, and that’s real Christian. Cuz appearances matter so much, right?

Before any fundamentalists start attacking me, my husband delegates all household and homeschool decisions to me. When I get overwhelmed, I consult him to help balance it back on out. It works for us and therefore we are obedient to God. I submit to his delegation and he understands my strengths as a leader in our home. My husband desires that I make home decisions and he trusts me.

I, on the other hand, have issues with trust and respect. My past makes trusting hard for me. I have issues with forgiveness too. We’re working through all this. I don’t think any married couple has perfection, certainly not within the first ten years or so. Yep, I’ve read those books on love and respect. They help some. But reading isn’t doing. I’m working on the doing.

Here’s a comment on a great lesson I learned from a Jewish friend. Read it for what it was for me at the time.

Here are some articles I wrote about trust issues: part one and part two. Please notice they’re from a couple years ago. I’ve grown some since.

But it’s still a struggle, almost daily. I suffer from wife guilt. I react out of my past experiences and I take out my problems on my innocent husband.

Yes, I pray and work through these issues, and I often fail. I am thankful for God’s grace and my husband’s constant forgiveness.

I’m not a naturally humble person. I’m not optimistic or even particularly happy.

I buck and fight with my strong-willed self.

A cuppa pride brimmeth over.

But to train up my children in the Lord and be a good example to them, I need to be a positive force and I cannot just appear humble, I have to humble myself.

If my family doesn’t feel I’m happy with my choice to serve them, I have failed as a wife and mother.

And there are many, many, many days when that is the case. I have failed.

Thank God for His grace and mercy and redemption.

Sometimes, I listen to the devil’s lies that I am less than, never good enough, and I let that false belief control my being and I lash out at the little ones I love most in the world.

My husband takes the brunt of it. Gracefully, and he forgives me every time.

I have friends who have it better than me and worse than me. Very Dickens best of times and worst of times. I have friends whose husbands are deploying to scary places and friends with marriage troubles and friends with children who just up and leave without a word and friends with children who are chronically ill and there is little hope.

So I should be happy, all the time. Right?

I’ve got it so good. I feel guilt to admit when I have a bad day because I don’t deserve a pity party when all my kids are healthy as can be and can mouth off at a moment’s notice. We have two cats as pets. Poor countries don’t have the luxury of having pets. My husband has a stable career and we get to live in lovely Germany and travel all over Europe. We eat well and and have pretty clothes. We love and appreciate art and music, a sign of wealth and leisure.

We have more than enough.

But we are all products of our environments and I’ve never experienced sacrifice. I’ve certainly been humbled before. And I say:

It is better to humble yourself than to be humbled by others or circumstances.

So, I’m praying and reading my Bible and going to church and working out my faith in front of my family. They keep me on my toes and they’re quick to point out my faults and failings and contradictions between my actions and what I teach to them.

Mostly in love.