I know my house will never be perfect, we live in it. I have a weird organized chaos thing that works for us. We have three children and a dog. Most days I just deal with it, it's life. But the days leading up to my dad arriving are days that feel like a beat down of all that's wrong with my home. My dad is a clean freak. And it works for him because his time of having children living with him, especially small children, is limited to very few years. One day when I was younger he made a comment about a stay at home moms house being disastrous and he thought is was lazy because it should be immaculate because she stays home. Let me tell you those words have stuck. He says it because on the subject of stay at home mom of young children he just has no idea. And even though I know the truth, the slime from that single lie, straight from the enemy eats at my core. That lie beats me down to a pulp. It reminds me of the dust in that corner of the powder room, the walls that still have construction paint almost 2 years later, the marks and the dings from life, our falling apart furniture, the mediocre decorating & lack of creativity in our "landscaping".
I know my dad loves me, but I wonder if he accepts me.
And it hits me -- I do that to God. I know God loves me, I learned that from a young age at St Gerad's vbs, but accepting me. All the yucky corners, the places I lack in creativity, the spaces falling apart. I sometimes having a hard time believing that. I have a hard time knowing deep in my soul that His grace is actually enough for me, all of me, even all the yucky parts.