Some days I get it "perfect."
I wake up happy.
I cook a healthy breakfast and remember to take my vitamins. :)
I workout at the gym.
I play with my boys, without a looming to-do list in the back of my mind.
I read my Bible.
I don't check Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest umpteen times.
I get laundry caught up.
I actually clean the kitchen.
I kiss my husband when he walks in the door.
We eat a home-cooked dinner together.
We share a Bible story and pray together as a family before bedtime.
The kids go to bed with one of my make-up-as-I-go shadow puppet shows.
My husband and I enjoy the last minutes before shut-eye chatting over a cup of tea.
Those are the days I feel great. Like I've got it together. I mean, I deserve a Suzy-homemaker ribbon, right? I can close my eyes and mentally pat myself on the back, because I did it.
But, then, day two begins.
I wake up exhausted.
I'm too tired to cook and do those dang dishes, so I whip out the cereal and milk.
I skip the gym and kick myself for doing so later.
I'm with my boys, but mentally thinking of the oodles of things I should be doing.
I notice my Bible.
I Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest while the laundry beckons.
I think of the dust on top of the fridge and mentally want to shut down.
I verbally and emotionally unload on my husband the moment he walks in the door.
We order pizza. (which makes my earlier gym decision all the more regretful)
The kids run around like wild stallions.
We do a quick family "fill-your-quota" kind of prayer.
I basically threaten the children's existence if they even think about calling my name or getting up out of the bed, because Mommy. Is. Done.
My husband flips on the TV and prays to himself that I will just go to bed for the love of all that is good in this world.
Those are the days I don't talk about. The days where inside, I am literally crying out to God, "Why can't I get it together? What is wrong with me?"
Those days are rough.
And, I've tried muscling through it. Praying through it. Reading scripture through it. Positively talking to myself through it. Making lists. Following schedules. Trying the next big thing to get my act together.
But, the truth is. I can't do anything. Sure, I still plug away at willing myself to change. But, my sheer will and human nature will fail me every time.
It is He who must work. It is on those "perfect" days where, though grateful as I may be, I seem to rely on Him a little less. After all, I did it pretty well on my own, thank-you-very-much.
But, those days when it all falls apart, physically and emotionally, I am forced to look beyond myself and see my need for help. For a Savior.
I could have a perfect day each day. Where my house is totally spic'n span. Where my verbal outbursts are nonexistent. Where my self-discipline allows me to follow my set schedule down to the letter. But, it is not on those days where I am forced to come to grips with how much I need His help.
I'm a mess.
The daily imperfections of life and ourselves are the very thing that should cause us to fall on our knees and be thankful that He came. So, that in the ashes, we can take confidence that it isn't in our ability that beauty will rise. It is in His alone.
So, let you and I take heart.
We don't have to have it all together. He is our perfection and in that we have hope.
My "perfect" days are few and far between. And for that, I am learning to be thankful.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
2 Corinthians 12:9