perfection

So, the funniest thing has happened. 

I was all excited and nervous to get this blog started. It’s been on my heart all year, so when I finally got the guts up to hit “publish”, it felt like a huge accomplishment. 

And then I sat. And wondered. 

And sat some more. Two weeks more. 

And wondered what I should write about, now that I’m all official and all. I’ve been calling it “writer’s block” which is totally laughable, seeing that I’m not a writer, but just now, as I was pulling into the Target parking lot, I realized what it was. 

Perfection. 

I lust after perfection. Knowing in my head that perfection is an illusion, it doesn’t matter. I still crave it, run after it, and try to grab hold of it. 

But it’s like trying to hold water...it just all runs out. Life circumstances, my kids’ attitudes, my husband’s reactions, it all runs out of my cupped hands that are desperately trying to hold it, make it be a certain way and shape and volume. 

If my college roommate were reading this right now, she’d be laughing her head off. My life doesn’t reflect perfection, and our dorm room was living proof of that. I don’t color-code my closet, I’m not naturally organized, I don’t have a spotless home. And those are all things you’d expect from a perfectionist, right?

But there’s this other kind of perfectionist...the kind that thinks, “If I can’t do it perfectly, I’m not gonna do it at all.” My dear friend calls it closet perfectionism. That would be me. So I’m scared to death to keep writing, because what if it’s not...perfect? 

At the end of the day, perfectionism is just another form of insecurity. I don’t want to be imperfect, because then I’ve failed, and if I fail, then people will know that I’m not perfect, and might actually see through my masks, and what if they don’t like what they see?  

What if it’s too much disclosure about myself? Maybe I should let them keep thinking I’ve got it all together. 

What if they don’t like me? Maybe I shouldn't rock the boat quite so much. 

And then the voice of the Lord speaks...

Patient, not perfect. Loving, not perfect. Kind, not perfect. Gracious, not perfect.

Praise, not perfection. 

He just wants my praise...he just wants me. 

You.

All of us. 

God doesn’t expect perfection...He just wants my heart. 

My life. 

He wants my life to reflect Him...in the ways I love, serve, and pour out grace.

So I’m posting this, just to get it off my chest, and to hopefully slay some of the perfection dragon in myself. 

And because I am weary of not being known. 

So to my teeny, tiny little community of readers, please know that my posts here won’t be perfect...they won’t always be wonderfully written. But they will be straight from my heart. 

And, hopefully, from His. 

hooking up the hose

After several suggestions that I start my own blog, I'm doing it. As I sit here and hyperventilate about the fact that my words, my heart, my thoughts, are going to be out there on the internet for anyone to find and critique, I am hesitantly stepping forward, bound by a promise I made to my 9-year old daughter that I would publish this before I went to bed tonight! 

My life is full. I've been married to my high school sweetheart (cue "awww") for 13 years, and we have 4 beautiful, bright kids. Girl, boy, boy, boy. Lots of lightsabers and swords at our house! Our first 3 babies were born within 4 years of each other, but we waited another 4 years for our last. 

I love reading, journaling, good coffee, and heart connections with friends. I love God, and knowing Him is the greatest joy in my life. Since I was a little girl, my dream has been to stay home with my kids, and I've been livin' the dream for almost 10 years now. It's a fun, exhausting, wildly rewarding job, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

I'm totally new to this blogging thing. I don't know how to link to a picture, or to another website, or anything. (and what's a linky party?) But I do feel like I have a story to tell, even if only to a few. Where do I start? 

So, the name. I'll start with the name.

We all know the quote, "The grass is greener on the other side of the fence." For a long time, I've believed it. But it's a lie. The grass isn't greener on the other side. 

The grass is greener where you water it. 

If you don't water your grass, what do you get?

Dead grass.

If I'm really honest, most of my life I've envied other people's grass, their lives. Insecurity kept me from appreciating what I had, and all I could do was secretly wish I had what "they" had.

"That" husband, or "that" life, or "that" family, or "that" easy baby, or "that" much financial flexibility. 

Or even deeper, I wished for their giftings...their talents...their strengths, that seemed so much "more" than mine. More creative. More organized. More fun. My own grass, my life, dried up and all but died while I wasted time wishing for something other than the life the Lord had given me.

No more.

I am done. Done with dragging through life, unaware of the blessings I've been given. Done with wishing I had someone else's anything. Done with wishing I was like someone else. Done with the ingratitude.

Ingratitude is a lying thief. It's stolen moments and days and years of incredible gifts given. It's kept me busy with comparing (please tell me someone else struggles with this) and judging my life based on those around me, and has ultimately made me unhappy with myself. My life is whizzing by, and I've been sitting in a tollbooth, watching it happen, on a stool of ingratitude. 

The real truth? I am blessed beyond anything I deserve. My life is full of incredible beauty and gifts. And not just my husband, kids, and family, although they're amazing. Not just our health, or our laughter, or anything material that we possess, though it's plentiful. 

Everything. All things in life, the good and the bad. The easy and the hard. Being thankful doesn't mean being thankful only for the good stuff. It means being thankful for it all. 

For the mountain of laundry. 

For the never-ending dishes. 

For the challenges with friends. 

For the temper-tantruming two-year-old. 

Rejoice, pray, and in all things, give thanks...not just in the obvious blessings, but in ALL things...because it's all been through His hands before it hits my plate. 

It feels like I'm just waking up to my life...to my own gifts, to my own unique place in my little world, to the blessings, to the reality that I GET to live this life, I GET to have these kids, this house, this husband...I GET to!!! They are a gift, not a burden! THIS is my life, not the imaginary one I have dreamed up in my head. THIS is my life...this is MY grass. 

Time to hook up the hose. :)