Friday, January 04, 2008
The Gift of Limitations
A week ago the aftermath of Christmas, the evidence of the past holiday strewn all over the house, was overwhelming. My desktop hidden by mail, the refrigerator stuffed with leftovers when everything in me was crying out for a pizza, laundry and bedding from overnight guests, pet hair and paw prints on the kitchen floor, and so many smears on the front and back door you couldn't easily see out them. Add to that a brother who was unexpectedly hospitalized, seriously ill, and my mom 1500 miles away and exhausted from caring for him.

Not much has changed in seven days. I haven't changed the bedding yet, the wrapping paper and bows, boxes, tags, tape, etc. are still scattered across the basement. (Now and then the puppy runs up the stairs with a bow in his mouth, trying to tell me 'it's all good, don't put them away!') Dust bunnies are alive and well on every floor of this place we call home. We've wiped up the big stuff on the kitchen floor but it's still not the best choice for a place to dine. And the windows still display the streaks of dog kisses and the chubby little fingers of our grandson. Yet it feels different. That new year feeling has crept into my soul, that 'I get another chance to do it right', and sprinkled across it is something I was having a hard time defining, til I read this:

"I also cooperate with the limitations of my personality so that I can continue to be the best mom and person I can be."

By Sally Clarkson, on her newsletter - sent across cyberspace, landing smack dab in the middle of my heart and morning coffee today.

I 'cooperate with the limitations of my personality' - there it is - permission, no grace, to be me. To do it the best I can, knowing it won't be perfect, not even always that great, it'll have lumps and bumps and flaws and shortcomings all over it. God didn't make me into anything that very closely resembles Martha Stewart. He created a woman whose personality has limitations, and my best isn't going to be perfect, yet it's good enough for Him. He even loves me when I'm too tired or overwhelmed to give my best. THAT is grace!

So my desk is a bit more cleared off, I threw out the leftovers and we're having frozen pizza and bag salad tonight. I've exercised some, run a few errands, put gas in the car before we hit empty. I've spent some time with girlfriends, over coffee or knitting, had my hair recut to minimize the damage, I've slept in a bit, watched some football bowl games while a fire burned in our family room fireplace. My brother is out of danger, and my mom is holding up, something I'm deeply thankful for.

Through the smears and licks and kisses on glass doors, I see the gift of His grace, allowance for 'the limitations of my personality so that I can continue to be the best mom and person I can be.' It makes all the difference, doesn't it? Thank you Sally, thank you God.


  posted at 9:53 AM

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    Girl Raised in the South

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