Have you ever said too much? Spoke too much? Made something too much “about you“?
Only to realize it way too late to backpedal, so now you have to double down and follow through—digging yourself into a deep, black, unforgiving hole?
I am constantly disappointed by my own actions, and my innate need to overcompensate for my various insecurities.
Like including small, unnecessary embellishments to a story I’m telling. Or name dropping. Or experience dropping. (I know it’s gross.)
Beneath that behavior is this underlying desire to prove that I am all I’ve ever hoped to be and more. To prove that I measure up to the giants I find myself surrounded (and am sometimes overshadowed) by.
At 30 I remain the little girl who was filled with unrealized potential. Fighting her way to the front of the crowd, hoping to be glimpsed and perhaps “discovered” by someone that matters.
Love me.
See me.
Choose me.
Adore me.
So, yes. Sometimes I am disappointed by how “me” I can be.
In this moment, I am also encouraged that the God that redeemed my soul from a consistent lifestyle of mortal sin, is not surprised by my sporadic reversions to unhealthy behavior.
Rather than running away, or shunning me, He moves toward me. Wrapping His arms around me. If not validating, at least valuing and approving me.
He knows all and sees all, and loves anyway. Unlike me. But much like who I want to be. I guess that’s grace, though, isn’t it?
There’s no resolve to this issue. Not now, anyway. Only regret and remorse, softened by the hope that maybe Tomorrow Me will do better.
After all, that’s what sanctification is for. Right?
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