No one is perfect, especially not me. In fact, Iím so far from perfect I donít even try. One might think that would grant me a sense freedom. Freedom to be whoever God made me to be, freedom to embrace my imperfections and let God use me anyhow.
Unfortunately, it doesnít work that way.
My estimation would be that six days out of seven I still worry that Iím not good enough. Usually itís that Iím not good enough for the people around me though sometimes itís that Iím not good enough for God. I feel an immense pressure to meet the expectations of the people around me, whether it be friends and family or the lady ringing up my groceries at the store.
Even though Iím not striving for perfection Iím still striving to be the right person to a myriad of different people. That can be worse than trying to be perfect. Sadly, there are both friends and family that have stepped out of my life because they deemed my efforts to be unacceptable. Iíve struggled to come to terms with those people and what it says about me. I firmly believe that their choice to end or put distance into our relationship speaks more about their character than it does mine. We should all be accepted for who we are, not for the expectations someone else has placed upon us.
However, I donít think that means we should ignore our own actions or thoughts. While our worth isnít measured by human expectations we should still take the time to examine ourselves and make sure weíre meeting Godís standards.
Those are the days I find myself weeping in the shower because I know Iíve fallen painfully short and I worry that my imperfections will have dire consequences for those around me, most importantly my children.
I am a passionate person, but that passion also extends into a short temper and quick tongue, both of which Iíve yet learned to tame. If God were anything like us he would have long ago tired of hearing my repeated petitions for forgiveness and guidance so that I donít permanently damage my childrenís hearts.
I think about people who have crossed my path and demonstrated that something extra, who have given beyond what was required of them and in the process made my life or my childrenís lives a little sweeter.
There was the couple at the amusement park who not only handed my kids their extra tickets to play games but also won a pink teddy bear and then promptly handed it over to my daughter to take home.
There are the empathetic mothers who hold the door for me when they see me wielding my ten month old daughter in what feels like a two ton car seat.
There are the waitresses who not only humor my chatty four year old daughter during a busy shift but take the time to bring her extra napkins, a roll before our meals because sheís ďstarvingĒ, or a special treat to take home because she behaved so well at the restaurant.
I have seen myself extend extra kindness to strangers when theyíre in a situation I empathize with and am in a position to help.
What strikes me about all of those events is that the extras were all given by or to a stranger.
Why is it so easy to go the extra mile for someone we donít know and so difficult to do it for those who matter most in our lives?
I struggle on a daily basis to extend extra kindness to my kids or my husband when Iíve spent the entire day changing their diapers, listening to them whine, picking up their toys, cooking them dinner, making their phone calls, and an infinite number of other things I donít have time to name.
The one thing that finally gets through to me is the gentle reminder that while God puts up with us on a daily basis and has been doing so for hundreds of years, he didnít hesitate to love us enough to do something extra. He sent his Son to die for us so that no matter how imperfect we may be our sins will never separate us from him.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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