The Messy Truth

My mothering skills last week rivaled Joan Crawford's performance in Mommy Dearest. Sadly, it wasn't acting for me. It was real life. It was one of those weeks in which stress, sickness, sleep deprivation, and selfishness created a perfect storm.

I snapped...more times than I can remember.

By Thursday I collapsed on my bed in tears. I said to myself, I can't do this. I don't want to do this.I wondered why God gave me these precious children to teach and nurture. Surely someone else could do better.

Too enraged and distraught to even pray, I did the worst thing I could do...I went on about my day, trying and failing time and again in my own strength.

And every time I failed, every time I said and did things that were wrong and harsh and uncalled for, I sipped the toxic brew of failure. By week's end I was drunk on guilt and self-loathing, too inebriated to grasp for any rational thought whatsoever.

I tried to write and couldn't even string two words together. I was a mess.

Friday morning I read this post of Emily's. Her words couldn't have been more timely.

Shame is what happens when we let guilt fester and sink deeper and don't deal with it. Shame seeps into our skin when we aren't looking and takes our spirit hostage. And then she sits down heavy and masks herself as us so we can't tell the difference between the two. {excerpt}

I realized then that Shame had taken up residence in me, kicking Grace right on out and locking the door. The two cannot coexist. No house is big enough for the both of them.

Sometimes I think failure isn't an option when you're old enough to know better. And while I am certainly old enough, I was reminded through the words of a song that I am still very much like a child, a baby even. A child who stubbornly believes she shouldn't need to be picked up and dusted off so often still by her Father.

The words coated my still-fresh wounds with healing truth...

And like a newborn baby

Don't be afraid to crawl

And remember when you walk

Sometimes you fall...so

Fall on Jesus

Fall on Jesus

Fall on Jesus and live.*

Some falls are worse than others. At times it's the sheer frequency of the falls that make it so hard. Some weeks I feel as if I never make it up off the floor before I stumble again, tripping over the mess I haven't allowed Grace to clean up.

So I'm in the process of cleaning house. And like some of those hoarders you see on TV, I'm finding that it can be hard to let go of the stuff that caused the clutter and mess in the first place. Ironic.

Thankfully, Grace doesn't care how messy it is. In fact, Grace works best in a mess...and she never says that you're old enough to know better.

And thank you, Emily. Your words helped give voice to my own and enabled me to at last string two words together...and then some.

.....................................

*Come to Jesus by Chris Rice