I'm NOT perfect. There, I said it. Far too long now I've been pretending to be someone I'm not. Trying to be a perfect picture. Really, I'm only an imperfect person. But who was I fooling? Just me.
It dawned on me as I stood over the kitchen sink weeping. Perfection will always, in this life, elude me. I can never be that which I've been pretending to be for far too long. However, I can be who I was created to be. And for me that's freeing. It means I don't have to live up to a standard I assume (yes, I know what that means) everyone else has placed on me.
I can live by grace, grace filled, each and every moment of the day. I don't have to be super mom, the perfect pastor's wife or anyone else; I can be just plain ole me. The me that enjoys being outside with her children. The me that likes to paint and make a mess. The me that sits and reads to my kiddos without worrying about the way the house looks. I can worship Jesus Christ in the manner He calls me to worship, without worry of someone saying something about it...they can take it up with Him.
Perfection is not mine to be grasped. Life IS mine to be lived.
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