Today, loyal readers, I present you with a very special gift- a post written by someone other than me. After much prodding, I was finally able to nail down a guest post from someone you might actually consider to be a writer, as opposed to whatever it is you consider me to be (don’t go there). So with that being said, I present you with a little snippet of Emily Wilson over at My Pajama Days. A fantastic writer and, from all accounts, and even better person, Emily’s writing is sure to both entertain and move you. Here’s a little bio written by the pajama queen herself followed by her post. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and then take a minute to check out the rest of her work over on her page.
I am a freelance writer, blogger and public speaker. It sounds better than saying I stay in my pajamas all day eating salt & vinegar chips. I claim to be a wife, a mother of two girls and a musician. Sometimes I’m funny.
Surrounding myself with people in different seasons of their life, shows me perspective for the years ahead, while also reminding me how far I have come. Jim Chaney is part of that cycle. Two of the things I admire about him are the many opportunities to see his life unfold in honest rhythm, and his ability to relate in a universal way. I am about ten years his senior in life, in marriage and in parenting and yet, his posts always capture my attention.
I was flattered when he asked me to guest post on his blog. Although he was probably regretting that request after several weeks (okay, it might have been months) flew by without a single word. Every time I sat down to write, either my brain would freeze, or I got distracted by life. Thankfully, Jim didn’t hold it against me. Perhaps he felt sorry for this old lady, or assumed I was a complete flake, but either way, never an unkind word did he speak. Which got me thinking, have I always been this scatter brained?
Once a upon a time, there was a young woman, whose hair and makeup were impeccable, her clothes were always cleaned and pressed, her car immaculate, and her overloaded list of tasks always managed to get done in a timely manner, in spite of motherhood and work . She was a woman of her word. If you asked her to get something done, it gone done yesterday. Apparently, that woman is long gone, she disappeared about ten years ago when she moved to Michigan and became a full-time, stay at home mom.
It really is true that the busiest people get the most done.
Instead of grieving a wardrobe of dry-clean only clothes, I’m actually relieved to be that mom in the faded blue jeans, worn out t-shirt and flip-flops, in desperate need of a manicure. Sure, there are days I look in the mirror, sigh, and put on yet another baseball cap, but I actually like myself more now than I did in my twenties. I don’t think my priorities changed; after all I’ve been a mom for thirteen years. My perspective changed. The way I see myself, my relationships, my children and even the world around me has evolved. I worry less about the things I have no control over and pay more attention to the things I can control.
I can’t make people like me, but I can extend unfailing grace and compassion to others.
I can’t presume to understand God, but I can listen with an open heart to all religions.
I can’t make people change their opinions about sexuality or race, but I can speak up about my own beliefs, rather than stay silent, and not tolerate prejudices.
I can’t protect my children from everything, but I can give them the tools to protect themselves.
I can’t always meet everyone’s needs, but I can meet my family’s needs.
And I can do all these things wearing my jeans and t-shirts, driving around in my dirty car, hair hiding under a cap and showcasing chipped nail polish. In my twenties, I worried about what everyone else thought of me. Now that I am almost 40, I worry mostly about what I think of me.
Although, there is always room for improvement.
“’Age’ is the acceptance of a term of years. But maturity is the glory of years.”