The irony behind the name of this blog is that I am rarely, if ever, a whole mama. Depending on the time of day or the particular phase of the moon, I can be anywhere from a one-half, one-fourth, to even a one-twentieth, but hardly ever what one could call ‘whole.’ But I long for it all the same…
As the daughter of a neo-Puritan Presbyterian and a Baptist southern belle, I often find the idea of wholeness as elusive as a pair of flattering jeans. What, exactly, does it mean to be whole?
I’m not sure.
What I do know is that I’ve spent a ‘whole’ lot of years (ha), like the (roughly paraphrased) song says, looking for ‘wholeness’ in all the wrong places. After doing so, I’m convinced more than ever that the answer to that question lies smack in the middle of a relationship with the living God. My quest for wholeness, for joy, for God Himself, and for passing on to my precious children a real, vibrant, authentic faith that is more than empty rhetoric is what this blog is all about.