Cakewalks and Cupcakes.

I was just sitting down this evening to bare my soul.

“‘Bout what?” you ask?…

‘Bout this.

I worry often that by displaying the best parts of our days and the best photographs in our albums and the grandest parties of our year that I, unwittingly, make my life seem like a cakewalk.

Which in and of itself wouldn’t be a huge deal.

Lots of people seemingly have cakewalks for lives, don’t they?..

And so I guess what I really worry about is that, in assuming my life is a cakewalk, you might then go on to calculate that my faith is in direct correlation to all the blessing I so ardently display on my blog. “Of course she loves God!” you might think. “She has parties every other day and her marriage is a dream and her kids are so perfectly well-behaved.” It makes me look like the “type” of person who goes to church because, again…why wouldn’t I? I have a white picket fence. My husband is better than Magic Mike. Life is perfect. 

And so I’ve been looking for the opportunity to speak to you, my dear friends, when life isn’t all hearts and flowers. When there isn’t an “aha” moment at the end of my day, a tidy little lesson to brighten up the drudgery. When I feel like a failure and a loser and a poor excuse for not only a wife, a mother, a friend and a housekeeper, but a Christian. These days happen more often than they do not, but who thinks to sit down and blog in such misery?

Well…this girl right here.

The circumstances were perfect for a parade of transparency and normality…

I haven’t showered today. I walked away like sad Charlie Brown when my baby girl screamed at me when I put her in bed. I burst into tears at the sight of my filthy laundry room that leads to my filthy kitchen that leads to all the other filthy parts of my house. I haven’t shown my husband the love and respect he deserves. I have been self-absorbed. My heart was so captured by the sermon on Sunday and I haven’t done one thing about it. Our dining chairs are so old they squeak every time we even think of picking up our forks. I have a huge blemish on my chin. I need to trim my…ahem…”facial hair”. I have old, deep heart issues of unforgiveness and bitterness that continue to flare up. Our white picket fence looks neglected and awful, and both gates have fallen off of their hinges. I have been a failure at Christian fellowship and discipleship. Our minivan smells like ketchup and dirty diapers. I have yelled at my kids a couple of times this week. I’m out of coffee. I am already absolutely overwhelmed by my duties as a stay-at-home mom, and have my first year of homeschool on the horizon. I spend way too much time on the internet. I keep forgetting to live for the world to come instead of the one I’m in right now…

And that’s just off the top of my head.

So here I was, in the zone of transparency, depressed, discouraged, gritty (and yes, maybe a little stinky) and had literally just sat down at the computer to type it all out and show you who the REAL Mrs. Gore is…

when our doorbell rang.

You won’t believe what was on the other side…


My beloved little friend, Leslie, had sent a tray of red velvet cupcakes up the hill with her husband, complete with a little hand-stamped note of encouragement.

My grittiness, depression and discouragement evaporated at the sight of them, and although none of the things I shared with you above have changed very much…

my perspective has.

My life may not be a cakewalk…

but tonight, it is most definitely a cupcake.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with that guy up there.


In the mood to find out more about the real Mrs. Gore? Read one of my old favorites from the archives: Swinging Low.