The me I wish to be

The ideal Me is perfect-

  She ends every day with dishes cleaned and put away

  No piles of laundry on the floor

  Children always cleaned and fed

  She reads the Bible every day

  And prays and prays and prays

     for her world changing friends

     for her unsaved neighbors

     for revival 

     for the flood victims in Pakistan

     for the two families in Louisiana who each lost three children in a drowning accident

     for direction 

     for people to turn to God instead of hating Him when bad things happen 

     for whatever is on her mind.

She teaches on a regular basis and loves every moment of it

She is never is impatient, and hardly ever raises her voice to her children

She is amazingly talented. 

She can sew quilt embroider knit crochet paint and play the piano without making a mistake.

She is a friend to the friendless- always available to lend a hand and regularly evangelizes at the grocery store (with her three children in the cart- of course.)

She regularly has people over (without getting frustrated thinking about it) because her house is always spotless. In fact, it has been rumored that her kitchen floor is so clean that when her baby eats food from it, she simply smiles and says - That's okay -  I just mopped! (With an organic cleaner she had made at home, of course.  : )

Cloth diapers. She recycles. She does a weekly column for her weekly newspaper about world events, and even leads worship when she is asked. This person is downright intimidating. I met her once a few years ago. It was at the end of a perfect day of course. Every room in the house was clean, all the laundry was folded and put away, she had played with her children that day and had a date night with her husband in the evening. She declared " I am THE WOMAN!" And of course, I had to agree with her. But, you know what? I haven't seen her since then. But the memory of that day still haunts me, and no matter how much I accomplish, at the end of every day I feel it is NEVER enough.

Even when I make play dough and print out coloring sheets for the kids. 

Or find my bedroom floor by doing all the laundry.

Even when I spend half the day in the kitchen baking homemade bread and from-scratch meals.

Even when I sew aprons or make matching dresses for the girls. 

I can pray while I'm doing the dishes, but do those minutes really count? I mean, I hardly remember to pray over our meals, and how will I teach my girls to pray if I can't be consistent to do it the same time every day. Hello? 

My life is poisoned by all the things I think I could do, but don't do.

This morning I woke up with this thought - 

I am the Lord. Is anything too hard for me?

My answer was No. Nothing is too hard for You, God. And I guess even my imperfections are not as discouraging to God as they are to me. He tied it together for me this evening when I read an excerpt from a book about Ruth Bell Graham:

"Marvin, let me tell you a story," she said. "Some fishermen in the highlands of Scotland came back to an inn for tea. Just as the waitress was serving them, one of the men began describing the day's catch in the typical fisherman's gestures, and his right hand collided with a teacup. The contents splashed all over the whitewashed wall and an ugly brown stain emerged. 

"'I'm so terribly sorry', the fisherman apologized repeatedly.
'Never mind,' said a man who jumped up from a nearby table.
Pulling a crayon from his pocket, he began to sketch around the tea stain, and there emerged a magnificent royal stag with antlers spread. The artist was Sir Edwin Landseer, England's foremost painter of animals. If an artist can do that with an ugly brown stain, what can God do with my sins and my mistakes if I but turn them over to Him?"

from: Ruth, A Portrait: The story of Ruth Bell Graham by Patricia Cornwell

 This is what I am hoping for. Transformation. Beauty from ashes. God's glorious touch on my very simple human existence. Maybe the Ideal me isn't as enviable as I thought her to be. Maybe I'm the one to be envied- with so many issues... so many tissues... tears covering the floor. What was it You said? Healthy people don't need a doctor, only sick people. Guess I'm in luck.

Maybe more later - Rosalina is crying....