The Broken Mom Thing

"We are all broken and we all just kind of limp along."  That was what I heard at church yesterday.  That, and something about keeping your focus on the wonder of God so your perspective doesn't get trapped in the woe-is-me world of your brokenness.

Good take home points.  But I wonder; why do I have to be SO broken?

I know, my perspective is out of whack.  Wonder.  Of.  God.

Still.  I came home from church and promptly won the Mom-of-the-Year Award for making our world's most sensitive daughter cry.  And I anticipated it.  And I didn't restrain myself.  Broken.

See, we live in So. Cal.  To get from point A to point B we need (really truly) a car.  Public transportation is crap where we live.  We own three cars (mine, my husband's, and our oldest daughter's).  The problem is that our middle daughter can now drive and is The Busiest Kid on the Planet Doing Good and Wonderful Things.  Therefore, my car has been hijacked.

Now this middle child of mine has a horse.  Having a horse where we live is no small monthly expense.  She loves her horse.  She doesn't do anything special on the horse.  She doesn't show it or leap tall buildings with it.  They just kind of walk around the trails and have horsey conversations.  Or something.

In my head, the horse is transportation.  I figure since we pay for the monthly upkeep of the horse (which is more than the monthly upkeep of a car, I might add), we won't help her out with a car.  She doesn't seem to have a problem with this arrangement because she just takes my car.

And, honestly, right now it's not a big deal because my husband is away and I can steal his truck.  But I want my car!

So, the broken me finally loses it last night.  I tell her in my kindest voice that perhaps she should sell the horse and buy a car.  That went over well.  It was as though I asked to her saw off her arm with a nail file (a dull nail file).

Really, I wasn't that kind.  I was mean.  I wasn't Joan Crawford mean, but I knew I was hurting her and I didn't think it out before I spoke.  Ugh.  This whole parenting older kids is a giant lesson in humility.

I don't know what the solution is in my situation.  I have apologized, but now what?  I think we've worked out a semi-schedule for my car.  Where do I find the wonder of God in this?  Is it that I have a teenager that spends her time going to school, going to church, babysitting, working, and mentoring 5th & 6th grade girls?  Maybe so.

I feel the creaking of my perspective shifting.