It seems like I’ve done something not completely right around here, and I have to say that I’m sorry. I need to remedy it before we continue with this challenge.
I’ve really wanted to be vulnerable and honest and show you that I’m flawed, and it looks like I’m not doing enough to prove that.
On Thursday, Noah had a baseball game and on the way, I was supposed to pick up his best friend, JJ, from his grandma on the way.
And. I. Forgot. Him.
I got to the game, and got a text from Brandy, JJ’s mom, asking if I forgot to pick him up. You guys, my stomach dropped. How could I forget him?!
As I plopped down in my chair, so dejected, I explained what happened to my mother-in-law, and she said, “So she is human!” just as Ty caught wind and texted me, “What?!?! I’m married to a human?”
Later, when I called Brandy to apologize, she said that she was talking to her mom and her mom said that she wasn’t mad at all – just relieved to hear that I’m human!
So, obviously something has gone terribly wrong here.
I am so human!!
Gosh, I make so many mistakes, mess up so many different things, and do so many things that I regret or make me feel like a failure.
But here’s the thing – I wonder if the problem lies in the fact that my human moments aren’t always the same as your human moments, so it’s hard for you to notice.
Remember in the Bible when Paul talks about the thorn he has in his side? He says that he begged God to take it away from him, and God reminded him that when Paul is weak, God’s power is made perfect.
You know what I’ve always loved about that story? I don’t know what Paul’s thorn was.
If I knew what Paul’s thorn was, I would probably decide his story didn’t really apply to me – I didn’t have to be weak like him. And not only that, I’d probably start to think I was maybe a little better than him.
We already do this with other people in the Bible, I think.
If you’ve never murdered your best friend because you stole his wife and she’s having your baby, you can feel pretty good about yourself, right? You’ve never even come close to having 1,000 women at your disposal, so you’re probably sitting pretty right about now.
Isn’t it harder to relate to David and Solomon (sins listed respectively) when you haven’t done what they’ve done?
That’s part of the power of Anonymous groups, grief groups, etc. If you’re sitting in a room full of people whose lives have been destroyed by exactly the same problem, you can feel much more safe opening up and admitting that you need help.
But when you don’t know what Paul’s struggle was, you start to wonder if maybe his problem is your problem. Was it a physical ailment like you’re dealing with right now? Was it a sin that is just like the one you struggle with the most? What if it was the sin that you judge so harshly in other people? Now you can identify.
So bring it back to me. Maybe it’s hard to see my humanity because it’s different than your humanity.
I think this is always our problem – especially as women. We are comparers, aren’t we?
“I wish my hair/waist/wardrobe was straight/tiny/trendy like hers.”
“I want to be a good cook/housekeeper/wife/mom like she is.”
“Why aren’t my kids as obedient/smart/athletic/well-dressed as hers?”
When we think everyone around us has it all together, and we are painfully aware of our own flaws and brokenness, we start to feel really isolated. Isolation is inherently lonely, and it’s a place filled with lies.
So maybe it’s not me specifically. Maybe it’s just hard to see everyone’s humanity.
I’m so human that sometimes it brings me to my knees. I’m flawed, I make more mistakes than I enjoy admitting, and I need Jesus’ saving grace every single day.
I am constantly asking those around me for forgiveness, doing sub par work in various parts of my life, and comparing myself to other people.
But you know what? If isolation is lonely and full of lies, telling the truth is just the opposite. There is so much freedom in admitting my flaws. Being honest is so scary, but so often it’s met with tenderness and a “Me, too,” and suddenly, I’m no longer alone.
My people are so kind to forgive me, show me grace, and keep loving me when it gets hard.
We are all so human.
So can we just make that commitment to each other, too? No matter what our flaws may be, let’s just keep showing up to say, “This is me – mistakes and messiness and all.” It’s so freeing.
And then let’s just love each other to pieces, okay?