There was a time . . . I thought I was in control . . . of nearly everything. Ruled by the toxic-two, perfectionism and guilt, was absolutely debilitating.
It didn’t help that I wasn’t good at delegating. I thought I could do it faster and better.
Come now, you know I’m not alone.
I tired myself out trying to be the perfect wife and mother, the organic super-homemaker who baked whole grain breads, ironed on Monday, scrubbed floor corners with toothbrushes, polished my plant dirt, twice on holidays . . .
The kids had to be shiny and perfect. Only in a pretty world.
Oh, but then it got worse – I was sure my inner control freak could fix broken people. Life happened and spun out of control, and I realized I was the most broken of all.
It must be God’s universe, not mine.
The story of Peter ( he has his own book, you know ) helped me to see that God chooses the imperfect. The foot-in-the-mouth, fallible, fisher-of-men, follower-denier, was chosen as the head hancho of the inner-circle twelve. The rock God built His church upon.
I love how the Bible tells the truth about frail humans.
I have a close ( author ) friend who can relate to me, and you . . . and to Peter. Lady Lori, self-made sweat and success story, hit some bumps, but pulled herself up by her pink pump-straps every time . . .
Then, removed her shoes to finally bow down to holy abandon.
How did that happen?
Ummm, can’t tell you, but you can read her book, Super Gal vs God, and find out!
Then let me know how liberating it is being perfectly imperfect.