All too quickly, the years have passed since that mommy and me class. I’ve since given up on perfect. I faced the reality that I don’t have it all together. Instead of trying to do it all, I’ve learned to let God manage my days. Rather than mother in my own strength, I parent through my weakness and on my knees. Each day I come before God, broken and helpless. I give him my messy life as a mother and receive in return the grace of the gospel. I’ve learned to embrace my weakness and messiness, not because my failures are good but because they open the door to God’s grace. And I’d rather wear dirty clothes and have my hair a mess than pretend life is perfect. Because then I get to wear the best fashion—the priceless, perfectly white robes of righteousness belonging to my Savior.