Perfection

It eludes me.

It taunts me, and hangs around in the back of my mind, tormenting me with the fact that I am not perfect. I never have been, and in this body, I never will be.
As I sit here typing, behind me, is the messy house I am for the moment, ignoring. I am not thinking about the carpet that needs to be vacuumed, or the floors that need to be cleaned, the toilets that need scrubbing, or the. . .okay, I guess I AM thinking about it a little.

I will admit though, that no one puts pressure on me to be perfect. I expect it of myself. Be the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect pastor's wife (okay, honestly, I've given up on that one), the perfect cook and the perfect housewife. And let me tell ya, that is a LOT of perfection for someone as imperfect as I.

Apparently, I even expect it of my children, and I had NO CLUE.

Seriously.

I am homeschooling now and am having a hard time with my 9 year old son. He erases so much, I should probably buy stock in the eraser company. On many occasions, I can be heard yelling from across the room, "NO, don't erase, just MOVE ON!" It quite literally drives me C.R.A.Z.Y. He doesn't think his cursive is good, and the truth is that for a 9 year old boy, it is FABULOUS! We have three weeks under our belt now and it is getting better. BUT, it has required a lot of reassurance on my part. Reassuring him that doing his best, and moving on from a mistake, is all I ask.

There was the one day that he kind of burst my bubble. Here I was, all secure in my new found ability to teach my own children in reading and writing and arithmetic. Taught to the tune of a hickoryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. . .okay, you get the idea. Me, impressed with myself, bubble bursting. It was one of the days that erasing was at an all time high and I started in on my, "I don't expect perfection speech", only to be informed that I DO in fact expect just that.

He told me that I tell him all the time that his room needs to be SPOTLESS. The room he shares with his younger brother, spotless. Like that will EVER happen. Yes, as crazy as it sounds, I wanted by boys room PERFECT.

*POP*

Right about then, I was totally deflated. I wanted to cry. Hiding entered my mind. I think I was a little bit devastated too.

I was so ashamed that he thought I expected perfection, something he KNEW he could never attain. He was looking up at me with troubled eyes, as I stood there thinking about the current mess in my OWN bedroom. I told him I was sorry, and that I never meant for him to think I expected things to be perfect. But what else is spotless suppose to mean?

Speaking of spotless, my heart is no where near perfect either. It's quite possible that it is MESSIER than my bedroom. ACK!

I am so humbled and so thankful that my God does not expect perfection either. It was a difficult lesson for me to learn. I grew up thinking that God's love for me was dependent on what I wore, how often I attended church visitation, and whether or not I could read my Bible through in a year. I was so busy trying to please God with my perfection and my busyness, that I missed the point.

The condition of my heart.

The deepest part of me. The part that no matter how well I hid it from my friends and family, was still very visible to God. All of the sin, imperfection, and my unrighteousness were lay bare before a holy God.

One day I will tell the story on my blog, but for tonight I will keep it simple. Suffice it to say that God spoke to me, drew me to himself in a way so real, there was NO MISTAKE that it was God calling my name.

I remember the night I called out to God to forgive me and cleanse me from all my unrighteousness. I remember saying that I was tired of trying to do things all on my own. I asked him to be my Savior and the Lord of my life. For me, it felt like the chains were broken, and I had been set free.

FREE.

There truly is freedom in Christ. It is something that until you experience it for yourself, you cannot possibly imagine what it is like.

It has been 14 years now, since I gained my freedom. It took a long time for me to understand that God loved me. Not God loves me if
or God loves me when, simply, God loves ME.

He loves me when I am the most unlovely. On my good days, and my bad days.

In Christ, I truly am FREE to be ME!



P.S.

I have a website that I would love to share with you. It is my website, that has forums for posting and sharing with each other. At one time, it was an ebay site, but I have felt led to take it in another direction. I am now homeschooling, blogging and doing other things that I want to be able to talk about with other ladies. Come on over and check it out. It is a private forum that requires signing up and being activated by the administrator, which is ME. :)

Blue Skies and Apple Pies

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