One time, I went to an amusement park with my sixth grade class over the summer and randomly got my period.

I had no “accessories” with me nor did I have the heart to tell anyone within a five mile radius because, you know, introvert, and instead, pulled my shirt over my backside the entire time (especially after being pushed into going on the log ride in all of its incredibly wet glory).

Then I had a sleepover so I didn’t even have the dignity of dying slowly in my own bedroom, and my friend’s mother had to wash all my clothes.

And that, my friends, isn’t even a fraction of the embarrassment I often feel as a parent.

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Dude I could do that way better”?

That was pretty much my thought process coming into this whole raising another human being situation.

What I neglected to factor into my calculations during the months and years of deliberating over whether or not I’d be a good mother (haha, just kidding…forethought? What’s that??) is the fact that indeed, another human being would be involved.

Complete with her own thoughts, wants, needs, and opinions.

Well, drat.

But I suppose it was part of God’s good plan that I’ve taken more time planning out what sweatshirt I’ll be wearing this weekend (the gray one…duh) than actually raising another human being. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of watching all my pride being sucked from my soul on pretty much a nightly basis.

Like, I told a friend yesterday, I have no pride left after being a mother (although I’m sure the Lord’s smirking at that one).

You see, there’s love and then there’s love. The first I thought I knew, and maybe I did. It’s always come with the stipulation that as long as you don’t cross me, then I can be a pretty loving creature.

But the other type? The other type comes with the fruit, man. It’s a long, drawn out walk into patience and gentleness and getting the foggiest of glimpses of what God’s incredible being must feel like as we (more often than not) wail against his own love for us and are hell bent on walking off the path He’s laid out.

It involves trust knowing I’m not in control of these things. I can only remain vigilant in my obedience to Him, and sometimes, it means watching whatever is out of my control crash and burn.

And then being tasked with running to the scene to help pick up the pieces.

If I would have known that day that life would feel like a series of randomly getting your period at the most inopportune times (I mean not literally…I have an app for that now), would I still have chosen this path?

The sin-natured human in me probably would have thought twice.

But the soul that craves cleansing and purity and sharing all that God has so selflessly shared with me?

It says “bring it on.”

So here I am, waddling, completely clueless, yet persevering in His good love as I love my daughter through a life that is out of my control.

And thankfully, it all comes out in the wash.