This will be a bit cliché. But it’s something I have to do. And I question how to write something like this without sounding self-absorbed. Narcissistic. Like a navel-gazer. But then, maybe I am all of those things and that’s my problem.
But aren’t there days as women where we just feel like we can’t get our acts together? Maybe weeks of this. Months. Maybe lifetimes. I feel my feet, trudging through just the dailiness and I can’t move fast enough, can’t find satisfaction. Like Eve, always wishing for more than I’ve been given, while watching others seemingly running miles around me.
And I lash out at myself, all inside mind you, but the words tear deep and I believe the tongue-forked lies and the wounded beliefs bleed out onto all the ones I hold sacred.
If I just was more organized.
If I was just a better planner.
If I was just a better lover of God.
If I was just a better Christian.
If I was just neater.
If I was just a better wife.
If I was just a more patient mom.
If I was just skinnier.
Or more fit.
Or . . .
If I was just.
And I know.
It’s plainly evident.
I’m not enough.
I know I’m not the only one. Don’t we all do this? We compare our children. We compare ourselves. We compare our homes, our husbands, our bodies, our abilities, our achievements. Everything.
The problem is, we compare them to one another instead of to the Most Perfect. The problem is, we compare them to one another rather than to our former selves. Because hasn’t each one of us been fearfully and wonderfully made? And hasn’t each one of us a Wonderful Worker, completing His work in us?
A friend of mine recently posted an Anti-List. Things she’s not that she’s come to embrace about herself. That my friends, is some sort of freedom. And I’ve been thinking a lot about that over the past few months as well. Maybe it’s part of growing up . . . realizing that God has made us certain people and learning that it’s okay that we’re not like so-and-so or so-and-so. Maybe it’s part of the letting go of our hunger for power – not in the ruling sense of the word, but in control sense of the word – giving thanks to God for who He’s made us, instead of shaking our fists, wondering why He didn’t make us the way we think He should have made us.
So I come to another Thanking Milestone. It’s time to thank Him for making me. I gulp.
Because when I know I’m not enough, that I don’t measure up, I can either dwell on my inadequacies, or I can thank Him for His grace in even creating me and for His continued work in me.
So I look up, eyes to the August sky.
#649 these arms . . . no defined muscles, but strong enough to lift my children to high slides, or hug my husband tight
#650 these lips . . . nothing special, but made for smiling and laughing and saying “I love you” and giving kisses goodnight
#651 these hands . . . covered in inherited great-grandmother’s veins, but able to bring Chopin or Debussy right into our living room
#652 this waist . . . larger than on my wedding day, but stretched by life and often surrounded by my husband’s arms
#653 this mousey hair . . . hmmm . . . well, it covers my head and keeps me warm??? 🙂
#654 these spider veins . . . broken capillaries from all those hours, running on the hospital floor
#655 my lack of neatness . . . it keeps my trying and keeps me humble
#656 my lack of patience . . . it keeps me calling on Jesus
#657 my lack of achievements . . . this keeps me standing on the Solid Rock
#658 my lack of being the kind of wife I want to be . . . keeps me digging deeper, giving up more of myself, leaning on Him to fill my gaps
#659 my lack of being a good planner . . . keeps me flexible while trying to learn to use my time better
#660 my lack of being organized . . . keeps me thinking on how He is a God of order
#661 my words of “if I were just” . . . compel me to re-focus on Him, His continuing good work
#662 that He is not finished with me
#663 beach-like breezes in the mountains on an August evening
#664 green swing, swaying, lonely in the breeze
#665 feeding the pond-fish
#666 rocking chairs and lullabies
#667 little voices singing with me
#668 spontaneous dates
#669 a wonderful babysitter
#670 a girls’ day coffee
#671 seeing old friends
#672 that weddings and babies keep us coming together
#673 peaceful Sundays
#674 a good mystery
#675 a sister with long, golden curls . . . still Goldilocks after all these years and how I just. love. her.
#676 a husband who thinks I’m cute in the early morning . . . that he’s just crazy enough
#677 the continued rescue
#678 a job well done
#679 get-aways with friends
#680 5 pairs of eyes, all glued to the screen
#681 minivans to fit us all
#683 Thankfulness. It frees the soul.