I was sitting on the beach the other day, spending some time with Papa. After a busy weekend of friends, time off (which generally means a slew of social interactions and no alone time), art fest, church, etc. etc. ironically I had had no time with the Lord (just me and the Lord that is). So desiring desperately to work on my tan before my brother's wedding, I hit the beach.
I found a spot between two other ladies, they said it was empty. I laid out my colorful blanket I got in India last year, and simply laid there. The sun laying soft kisses upon my skin as the sand cradled my body. I was wrapped in the essence of bliss as I finally...relaxed. The pressure of perfection finally easing as I...released...every...care....breathing. I wrote earlier this week about how bad I've become about this simple practice, and in this moment realized that I had slipped back into my regular patterns of inability for respiration. Stress and anxiety steadily choking out my ability to breathe, now I was uncoiling the nerves from around my neck to simply be.
From the waters edge I overheard the conversation between a child and his mother, regarding his brother, Summit:
Kiddo: Summit! Summit don't play with the oil.
(I don't think there was actually any oil in the water, but this kid was convinced there was something funky going on there.)
Kiddo: Summit! Stop! Stop that!
Mom: Hey, don't worry about him.
Kiddo: Ok...but I don't want him to catch disease.
Kids are continuously my greatest gift from Papa to give me perspective on my place in life. They remind me how God views me, as a child: innocent, naive, and sometimes just dumb. It reminds me that even on my worst days, I am loved. When every move I make is a mistake, even in the times I think I am doing good, I may be disciplined, because he disciplines those he loves, but in the end.... I am still loved. Papa simply shakes his head, probably laughs at my toddling, and helps me get back up. I'm his child, that means I'm still learning how to do this holiness thing. I'm still learning what it means to show his love. And I fail...even in my best attempts I am going to fail. Yet even in my failures I'm often like that kid on the beach, worrying about everyone else. Saying "hey, stop that, don't play with the oil" (what oil!) "I don't want you to catch disease." And because I'm human and am going to continue to grow, I'm going to continue to make these mistakes. It almost seems a little hopeless. This idea of perfection that we're supposed to be being shaped into, but will never be able to obtain.
However, slowly, I think I'm learning that that's the point. The fact that I am continually making these blunders just brings me back to the realization that I am so completely and totally dependent on Christ. I need grace. So maybe then the point of this life is not to obtain the so-called perfection that I am being shaped into, but rather learning how to pass out grace, of the lack of perfection in this life. Recognizing that I fail and having grace with myself, receiving grace from God. That spreads that I may have grace with others. Knowing we're all trying, we're all failing, and there's grace for us all. That removes the stamp of stress and anxiety. It restores freedom to try, try, and makes it ok to fail. Makes it ok to try things and not succeed, because it's expected. In all risk there is an expected loss as a possibility. However, if we never try we never know. Grace gives us the freedom to take risks, because even if we fail, it's ok, and we can pick ourselves up and try again. What is a full life with out the lessons learned from our unknowing?
Letting go of all my striving for perfectionism....ever so slowly embracing the ability to try.....to make mistakes....to be hurt....to get back up....try again....Freedom.
This blog post is an encouragement to me, today. Thank you!
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