I’ve been blasting this song whenever I hear it on the radio, especially when my girls are with me. Thanks, Colbie, for creating a bit more space to simply be.
Month: October 2014 (Page 2 of 4)
Photo Credit: CC – Paul Bonhomme.
Miss M, in her new awareness of “pretty” started combing her hair until it straightened. It saddened me to watch the curls unravel, but even more so, to see at an early age such a desire to be other than her created self. Perhaps I contributed to the problem – I both started straightening my hair via blow dryer this summer with a new style and I told her I loved her curls. In any case, she’s not convinced the curls should stay.
I told her – and all of them – that God had created them as individuals. We talked about how before they were in their mama’s belly, God got out a piece of paper and some crayons and began to make a Miss M. And an H Boy, a Lady C and a Mr. M. I told her how God does amazing work and doesn’t make mistakes, all of his creations are beautiful because they have a little piece of God in them. His fingerprints are on his paintings, on us.
There are no kids across the street anymore. Mom is still there, smoking on the front porch. The male figure(s) arrive and leave, yesterday with loud shouting and some physical restraint. I can’t imagine that when God pulled out his fresh piece of clean white paper, this is what He drew. I don’t believe this woman grew up aspiring to the children’s services rotation. She never dreamed of relationships that would drown her. She doesn’t want this. Either does God.
Straightening our hair or poisoning our minds with artificial and temporary fulfillment – we all have our way of picking up a black crayon and telling God, “nice try.” As co-creators, commissioned to continue what He began in his first 6 days, we spend time with the paper. The question isn’t if we draw, it’s what we draw.
We have opportunity to sit with the master, to learn how to take long, careful strokes. He can tell us how to blend the most extraordinary colors, to accent with shadows and make a piece come alive and jump off the paper. We can sit, listen, absorb, practice, be corrected, seek feedback and take risks under the supervision of the Master.
Or we can take a black crayon and declare the entire work trash.
Either way, I’m in firm belief that God never stops drawing. If we’re breathing, he’s adding color. You cannot scribble which he cannot work into something of overall beauty.
At any time, we can join him. We can begin to choose complementary colors. They might be elementary. Perhaps we start with stick figures and sunshines. It doesn’t matter. A heart that looks to learn and create something of beauty, rather than living in anger with the paper, is a heart that is in tune with God. And God can make beautiful things (as Gungor lyrically puts it) out of dust and out of us.
Choose your crayon.
Authentically good
Hi, I’m Michele.
I don’t struggle to keep my house in order. I live a calmer existence when I can see my floor and countertop, so I regularly clean them off.
I’m notoriously organized. I can tell you where to find what and when we’ll be where.
I exercise a great amount of discipline. I go to bed when I’m tired, which often means before 9 and nearly always before 10. I wake early and spend regular mornings of solitude and study the Bible.
I spin a good tale. Whether about fetching a pot of cold soup or finishing a half-marathon, I love the act of bringing people with me into a memory or a story – my own or someone else’s.
I read everything. Currently small slips of paper mark my place in 5 books, one of them being an Old Testament commentary, another on the history of the world according to food and one a fiction novel I might marry someday. I follow and regularly read 108 blogs.
I think existentially about things like screen time, food sources and word choice with my kids, among most everything else. I think, think, think and 90% of the time I make a decision based upon those thoughts. I dig for root causes and prescribe remedies to challenging situations in my life. If I don’t like something, I think about it and change it.
I apologize for these tendencies when they’re revealed. (Even just listing them for the Whole Wide World to read made me want add footnotes of explanation). For some reason, I feel shame about the person I am, even when these things bring about positive results in my life. I don’t desire to change them, yet I don’t desire anyone know about them either.
Image via CC – Grey World.
Now my faults? You know them. I’m not a Pinterest mom. I refuse to cut the peel off my kids’ apples, let alone their sandwiches into cute shapes. If we ate sandwiches, that is. I’m not a floor mom. I don’t get out of my chair to be a part of the adventures of building and exploring and imagining. I encourage from afar and give them siblings for such play. I lack follow through and I’m rarely thoughtful.
These things, I’m quite free with people knowing. I’m fine with such shortcomings. I apologize when they hurt feelings and I own up to them.
In the name of authenticity, I don’t hide my faults. That’s what we do, right? To be real, we tell people all the ways we fail.
Our veiled attempt at honesty is robbing us the joy of a peaceful existence. These habits aren’t authentic, they’re deprecating. How can we possibly be better off by apologizing for the ways in which we’re trying to make the world, or at least our own lives and homes, a smidge better that we found it yesterday?
Friends, I don’t need more of this. I don’t need people – specifically women – to dwell on their failures in order for me to feel better about my lack of perfection. I need people who are doing their thing, who found their spark and live ablaze. I’ve been on this earth for 34 years now, I’m pretty confident that perfection doesn’t exist. Can’t we just agree to be imperfect and move on? I’m positive we can be honest about our faults without making a slide show out of it.
Sitting in Faultville and comparing maps of the city will get us nowhere. Let’s just agree on our starting point and get in a caravan headed to Bettertown. I promise that each of us knows at least little bits of the path, so together we’ll make it. Unless we all keep lying about the beautiful ways in which we were created for good. If you withhold from me – from us – the gifts of your life, the way in which you reveal the nature and love of God in your very own flesh and soul, we might run out of gas.
The things you do well, the tasks and projects for which you secretly give yourself a gold star, are fuel for the human spirit. If not for all of humanity, let me say they are inspiration for your children, for your family, and me. I don’t need another person to show me how to live in shame, wishing I were better at this or that and in the meantime neglecting who I really am. I want to surround myself with people who don’t apologize for the ways in which they’re living well. I’m fine with my faults – I need folks who will help me accept the best part of me.