At my best, dare I say it… I’m mediocre.

As the conversation about faith and parenting comes to a close my sweet friend says, “On my best day, I’m a mediocre parent.” A matter of fact statement said with love and acceptance I can’t quite fathom.

Mediocre. I loath the word. Because I’m the oldest child of two, driven from the time I can remember towards anything but mediocre. It means ordinary, barely adequate, halfway. Something I want to avoid at all costs. Go big or go home seeps quietly into all I attempt to do. Barely adequate, neither good nor bad is not enough.

And there you have it.

Ugh! Have I journeyed this far with living enough to I  return to the old country, the Land of Not Enough?

In the twighlight I drive home and my friend’s comment echos deep within me. She said it more than once to encourage me, “On my BEST days, I’m a mediocre parent.” Thinking about it makes me squirm. Is God ok with mediocre?

Maybe the bigger question is am I.

Watching my children become adults in the world is like the teacher sliding my graded test back to me with the big red number at the top. Sometimes I’m passing with flying colors and my heart soars. There are moments a big fat “F” stares me down, and I rehearse all the mess-ups along the way. But most days, an ordinary, middle of the road “C” is all I can manage.

Can mediocre really ever be enough? 

I rehearse our conversation once more.

“On my best days, I’m a mediocre parent.” Then she silently nods in the direction of her own three playing near by.  “Any good thing they do or become isn’t because of me, it’s all Him.”

I almost missed it. In the wanting to be more than ordinary, more than average I’ve become distracted. I’ve forgotten the most dangerous thing about living in the Land of Not Enough is not being mediocre, it’s the striving to be something I’ll never be on my own.

I quietly sigh relief as if to raise the white flag of surrender. Yes, God is ok with mediocre and so am I. Because I worship a God who uses the ordinary to create extraordinary.

Bits of dust became man.

A young shepherd boy was annointed king.

An orphan girl saved her people.

No nursery was prepared for the child, nor was there an ornate crib created for the King. No sparkling jewels signified His importance, nor hand carved mobile danced above His head. Nothing out of the ordinary that night.  Just an average couple housed in a stable with a feed trough for a bed.


Yes, my mediocre and your’s too by the way is what God uses to transform the average and ordinary into something more.

His Son is living proof.

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