There's a lot of talk about being real, and there sure is a place for that. But that's not what I'm pointing out here. This blogger was being real. I believe she was wholly genuine in her desire to digitally scrapbook her life and minister to others in the process. I believe she presented her daily life truthfully in the post, without any judgmental intention. The problem was me, not her. My initial reaction as the guilt crept into my mind and then slowly flooded every part of my body was that this lady just needed to come off her high horse. Who did she think she was, making me feel this way? While's she's romping about in the land of eternal sunshine, I am hanging by a thread here in the snowy tundra of Rochester, so I just beg her pardon if I bribe my toddler with M&Ms and let him watch Barney so I can have a sanity break.
I ruminated and hemmed and hawed. One minute I was stoking the flames of absurd anger toward someone I've never met, and the next I was clearing out our medicine cabinet of anything ever purchased in a drugstore and googling the recipe for elderberry syrup.
I had lost myself.
In my place was a guilt-ridden, judgmental defender of what works for me and my family. When that didn't feel right I became a guilt-driven poser racing to the farmer's market to fill my freezer with one hundred dollars' worth of organic meat.