Jennifer at The Lactivist has a great post up today about being a perfectionist mom.
I am reminded of a conference Adam sent me to last year. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be there and definitely wasn't in the mood (when we arrived) for all the high-energy praise music and hanging out with the rest of the women filling up the stadium. It just didn't feel like me. But the main speaker for the evening got up and shared her story about coming to terms with her own imperfections. By the end of her session, I was bawling with the best of them.
To admit I'm not perfect, even in the face of the overwhelming evidence, is soooo difficult. It's a matter of pride, I guess. I want other people to think I'm perfect (or at least be impressed with how close I've come), even when I know I'm not.
The thing is, God knows all about how imperfect I am. He knows because He knit me together this way. Humans are not perfect. That's part of our nature. And God loves me here in the midst of my imperfection. Sometimes, I have a really hard time trusting in that. I mean, it's so much easier to love someone when they're doing good stuff for you, right?
I'm glad that God is more perfect than I am. I just wish it were easier to believe that sometimes.