Okay with Imperfect
How's your week going, loveys? I'm sitting here at home with a cup of coffee, my desktop and my laptop, wondering where to begin. I've got a stack of manuscripts on the corner of my desk that I'm not looking at. The edit that has my attention is pulled up on my laptop. I'm listening to Snow Hill's cover of Be My Baby (loving it). I just gulped down about half my cup of coffee since it was on the verge of getting too cold for me. And I'm thinking about how I feel at the moment.
Right outside my window, fall is in full effect. The air is cool and sweet and every time I drive down the street, leaves swirl like I like them to. And the song on my playlist just switched to Home by Dawn Landes. My bangs are making me a little crazy. I'm not sure I should have had bangs cut again. (I will tell you this because if I have this discussion with the Jeffster, I get no sympathy.) I'm wishing this baby would start kicking. I'm thinking I need a new pair of black boots. And maybe new eyeliner.
Does your mind do this to you, loveys?
I've been all over the map lately. I think it's pregnancy. And maybe just me.
Let me just tell you, I'm okay with imperfect.
I was thinking the other day about my faith journey. I think I get more okay with imperfect the older I get. I rely on grace more. I see Scripture through the lense of a lot of stories about imperfect people, and I think, God must really love us. David and Abraham and Peter and Thomas and Rahab . . . with messed up, beautiful stories. And we're all just people. Needing to love and be loved.
And I don't need to try to be perfect.
I'm okay that my kids aren't perfectly obedient, vegetable-loving munchkins that go to bed the second I tell them to. They're just mine and I'll take them as they are. And I'll love them like no one else because they're mine. I think God must feel that way about us. When he saw David commit adultery and then murder and then be broken by his own choices--I think God loved him because David was his.
I think God can use any of us.
I'm easily distracted. I lose my temper. I'd rather have dessert than anything else. Sometimes I lose my train of thought mid-prayer and suddenly I'm writing my grocery list. I'm nervous when I'm alone in the dark. I'm obsessive about things like TV shows or books I'm addicted to. I don't really like talking on the phone very much. I wish I had more personal time. Even if Lincoln has gotten out of bed for the tenth time, when he tells me he wants another kiss, I'm going to give it to him.
I'm not the perfect wife or mother or Christian or friend.
I'm okay with that. It's not even on my to-do list.
I've been touched by grace in ways that changed me. I've reached down inside myself to find forgiveness that really means something. I've chosen belief when I'm not even sure. I've loved even when it made me cry and I wasn't sure I could. I know the things that matter to me.
Perfection is overrated, lovey. Don't worry about it. God keeps loving us.
And the song just switched to Today by the Smashing Pumpkins.
There are things to do. Maybe a second cup of coffee is in order. It feels good to just breathe easy and be thankful and know I'm loved. I don't have to be more than I am. I'm loved regardless. You are too, lovey.