| | Growing up, our house was almost always in a state of chaos. Whenever there was an unexpected knock on the door we would leap up, rush around picking up dishes, clothes, and general debris before opening the door . There were times when the mess was so overwhelming we would keep very quiet until the officious party gave up and went away. We made the usual remarks to make ourselves feel better; “People with clean houses are neurotic or uptight". One of my siblings actually said, “I have loftier things to think about than housework”. We weren't very good bohemians, secretly, we were ashamed. Some people were just born having it all together and we weren't them. It wasn't easy living that way. Things were always lost. We always had undone chores hanging over our heads, having people over was a big undertaking so we did it at little as possible. And worst of all, there was no beauty. Later, I saw so many parallels in the way I grew up and the person I had become; an embarrassing mess. Excuses were so much easier to make than progress toward an overwhelming goal. It seemed easier to hide what I was than to change. But I was tired of hiding.
Would God give me the longing to be a better person and not the power to attain it? It didn't seem like him. Fortunately, I was naive enough to ask God to change me, hoping beyond hope that it was possible.
I look back and see that the impossible has been wrought in me. I'm very far from what I should be, but I'm not what I was. There is hope for the future; the transformation will one day be complete. Meanwhile, the journey, with all its struggles, disappointments, setbacks, and confusion is filled with a sense of wonder. What else is possible with me? As I grow older there is the temptation to say, good enough. I'm afraid of settling for good enough. God is teaching me never to settle. It doesn't make for an easy life, but definitely a life worth living.
Joshua 1:3, 9
|
| | Posted 11/9/2005 2:41 AM - 27 Views - 12 eProps - 14 comments
- recommend
  - recs0
- share
- email
 - sent0
|
