From the Heart
So what if your day does not go quite as planned? Your intentions were good … but.
Ever have one of those moments where you feel so guilty over what did not get done? Ever feel overwhelmed with a to-do list where nothing gets crossed off that day?
Ever stood in your kitchen, finishing off the last of the banana bread, slathered in butter, standing on a kitchen floor that should have been mopped that day? Oh, and about that healthy eating decision?
Ever look into the social media mirror and feel like you don’t measure up?
Me too.
My husband often reminds me, “Hunnee, there is always tomorrow.” It’s OK. Then he tells me I am pretty. Have I mentioned before that I love that man?
I get so caught up in watching the accomplishments of others that I feel like a failure. I comparison-watch on social media. I see myself as the lesser.
I have friends who run marathons. I walk uptown and sometimes through Forest Park and back home. That is over three miles. That is my marathon.
I have friends who sew 100 masks for the essential workers at their nearby hospital. I find six cans of Lysol for my mother’s health campus.
My little is so little – as I see it.
I hear the prayers of others, so eloquent, so powerful. I know God is smiling upon them as he listens. Me? I struggle to find the words. Often, I simply hold open my hands and hope that God hears my heart. Could God be smiling? I hope so.
It is so easy to get caught up in the I should haves. It hinders my enjoying the moment. It has me counting my failures instead of counting sheep at night.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, writing, caught up in words and thoughts. I find myself so involved with trying to make sense of my thoughts that when I look up and see that it is midmorning, I feel guilty. I am still in my pajamas. I hope the words are of value. I hope they make a difference when others read them.
I sit on my sofa, totally consumed in a novel. I find myself taken to places of intrigue and adventure. I become like an invisible character in the story. I need to start the laundry. I finish reading the last 200 pages of the book. The laundry is still in the hamper … not even started. Pass the guilt please.
But then …
I watch my husband look across our kitchen table and smile. To him, I am pretty, I am enough.
I walk with Patrice and Janae and Corinne. They slow down a bit for me as they are runners. To them, I am worth the slowing down of their pace.
You see, my friends, there is this simple thing called Grace. I so lavishly extend it to my family and my friends yet, I am so stingy with it when it comes to myself.
To give an act of kindness, courtesy or clemency. Oh, how I love the word Grace.
I expect more from myself. I see the value of others and it clouds my perspective of myself.
Psalms 139 reminds me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. It says that His works are wonderful … yes, wonderful.
Oh, how I pray with hands held up and open … “Lord, let me see that my wonderful is enough.”