Rise up and call me broken rather than blessed

In proverbs it states to train a child and when he is older he will not stray from it. I ponder what is it that I am truly invested in my children not straying from. The obvious is from God but what about all the other parts of life that I can only give my opinion, my experience, my fears for them. I look at the fragility of my children and accept that one day their hearts will be broken. That they will make mistakes and see the impurity of ugliness. So what is that I want them to hold near and not forget. That love is eternal and I will love them no matter what they do and choose not to do. I was raised to know Jesus and that I am thankful for  his eternal love.  However my passion was birthed from who I am today. I am passionate about women, human rights, and healing. I was not raised in these beliefs so I have no other choice to believe that my children will have his/her own without my input and perhaps approval. Mothering is not for the weak but its not for the ones who pretend to be strong. I am weakened daily by my faults, my disappointments and my own childhood. I rest in knowing that each one of my children will rise someday and perhaps not call me blessed but beautified by the mosaics of who they become in my life.

The Bra of Eve, Mary Magdalene, and Sarah

I find it amusing how we as women invest in something so delicate to define our womanhood, sexuality, and now even mothering. In all areas a bra appears to look different and even feel different. Over the years of mothering, I have come to a place of serenity that mine will be stretched to a place of no return. Nursing four babies seems to take all the delicate beauty and warp it in some wired item . However I am a woman of change and it has come to my attention that it is time to let go those Johnson & Johnson years moving forward to a place of much needed redemption. I became a wife and mother but a woman I AM. "Where's my bra?" and what exactly does that mean ? It has different meanings with different ages,  and different places. I implore you to search for your bra in where you sit today. Are you wearing one? Does it need to be washed or thrown out to die somewhere? Are you dying in your bra? Is it time to replace your "mom bra" with a reminder that you were once sexually inclined to leave it somewhere and forget? Now that's a vintage bra.