Merry imperfect Christmas! If there is anyone who needs permission to not be perfect, and to not have a perfect Christmas, it is a stepmother. Give yourself a chance to breathe. You need it.
Something was wrong between us. The symptoms were subtle, not easy to pinpoint. I couldn’t diagnose the problem. My husband was being too nice.
Imagine you’ve been single for years. Now imagine you’ve just agreed to babysit your two nephews every single weekend. For free.
When a marriage makes a stepfamily, the good tends to lie buried way down deep. It took me nearly five years to embrace the good that God wanted me to see and to appreciate.
It took me four years to appreciate the fact that my family is sprawling and complicated. As I learned to accept my circumstances and open my heart, I started to become the stepmother I hoped I could be.
“Will you always be my stepmom?” Down went the clean laundry I was busy folding. I looked up. My stepson was watching me intently. It was just the two of us, in a rare bit of quiet. I searched for an answer.