Tired of the Beatings

I’m tired of the battle–the daily battle to be perfect. Who ever said I need to be anyway? Why do I set my expectations so high? Only to plummet to the bottom each night.

I take my daily spankings like I do my daily vitamins. At the end of each day, I reflect on all my “I should have’s.” And my thoughts aren’t always proper and pretty.

Thoughts like:

I should have smiled and hugged my husband when he got home from work today.
I should have stopped cleaning the dishes and looked into my daughter’s eyes when she told me about her school day.
I should have said something positive to my teenage son.
I should have called a friend who I know is struggling.
I should have exercised.

Naughty, naughty, shame on me.

I’m never satisfied. I always want more. I want to be a more affection wife, a more patient and loving mom, and a more caring and understanding friend. When will it happen? Because I’m tired of trying.

Lately something new and refreshing has come over me. Not another religious way of doing things. Because I’m not religious. Religion sucks the life right out of me. I rebel against checking the boxes of religion. However, I am all about–relationships–with those I love and God.

What’s come over me is a fresh revelation of God’s grace.

God’s grace is something I knew before but now it’s real and personal–again. I seem to relearn the same lessons. I must forget.

One of my dear friend’s favorite Scriptures is Romans 5:1:

By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us, set us right with him, make us fit for him, we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.
The Message, emphasis mine.

I’m learning that the door of grace is wide open. God accepts me as I am. He smiles and approves of me. I don’t have to try harder.

Grace is when my friend tells me, “Be gentle with yourself,” over and over again. Grace is when an unexpected door opens for me to write or share what God has done for me. Grace is God choosing me regardless of my past and my trailing list of “I should have’s.”

So lately I’ve put away my paddle and picked up the truth. The truth is that I am okay. Not perfect, but loved completely regardless.