The fact that I have started many blogs in the past and not finished them is proof positive of what I’m about to tell you.
I am a perfectionist.
Okay, not the OCD, alphabetizing, perfectly-aligned-shoe-rack type perfectionist that has everyone on pins and needles every waking moment.
I’m a closet perfectionist.
The perfectionist roars inside at myself, at my failures and my flaws rather than at others’. I see others’ flaws, of course, but they don’t really bother me because I know, after all, you’re human.
But I never naturally give myself the same grace.
No, I’m too fat. I’m too plain. I’m too angry. I’m too lazy. I don’t write exactly what I meant to say. I’m too perfectionistic to really be a good mom, a good Christian, a “good” person.
The kind of person I want to be.
But the truth is…
…I don’t have to be.
I’ve never had to be perfect, because Christ already is.
I’m working on finding the balance between grace and diligence, rules and compassion, for myself and for my young daughter. (Because, let’s face it, motherhood will throw all these things in your face, hard, and then some.) I’m learning, I hope from the Word of God and from fellow sisters in the Lord who have gone before, what it really means to strive for God’s glory with all my might…AND live in the “now” world of imperfection, while waiting for that beautiful one of the “not yet.”
I’m a mama.
I’m a cherished wife.
I’m a bought and paid for, adopted, coddled, precious, rescued daughter of the Greatest King.
I will learn to live in the light of these unbreakable truths.
Are you willing to do so too?