I’m sitting in a Starbucks waiting on Glo while she is at basketball practice and I’ve found myself with a few minutes to reflect. It’s a little too air conditioned in here and it looks like the weather might finally be turning to fall. I spent the better part of yesterday in tears and today I had the worst headache of my life. It was so bad when I woke this morning I realized that I had been dreaming I was having a brain transplant, which I’m pretty sure isn’t even a thing.
I’m struggling today to get my thoughts into words. I’ve written and deleted this post 3 times already and it’s because each time I write I learn a little more about the issue. Writing is my therapy and sometimes, as I posted once long ago, since I have older kids, what is my business is actually their business and not really my business to share. So, as I hash and rehash the issues of the day, of the week, what I’m learning is actually about forgiveness.
I can’t share the issue but I can tell you what is beautiful.
Forgiveness is beautiful.
To be forgiven is our ultimate gift. To be eternally forgiven is amazing and I’m so thankful and honored to be forgiven. But, though that is beautiful and very much perfect, it can’t be the end. We must be forgivers.
To be a forgiver is to move on in big things and in little things, which are sometimes harder. When a little thing hurts (and in this situation there is a pile of little things that reminds me of my laundry…one load on the dinning room table isn’t so bad but by the time there is a week’s worth of laundry to be folded it is almost too much to handle.) you have to move on knowing that the same little thing might happen again. As a parent, you instruct. Sometimes, if you’re imperfect like me, you don’t always instruct constructively and then you need to be forgiven too. Then it starts to be a mess and that’s when we look to Jesus. He’s the ultimate forgiver. We get it all back together and promise next time we will be better. We promise to start with Jesus and then it is beautiful again.
I started the post I deleted saying that when I normally call our lives a beautiful mess, I should just tell you it’s actually a mess. But, as I worked through the words, typing and retyping the “truth,” I understood that our family isn’t a reflection of all of my negative character traits, which is what I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you that we’ve got to get it together; then, I was reminded that we’re still in progress. We aren’t complete and we never will be. These people that I’ve dedicated my life’s work to are still working it out. They’re a construction zone. Sometimes when you look at a building or a road that is being built all you can see is a disaster but the architect knows what the end result will be and The Architect knows it will be beautiful.