"I think of myself as an old-house girl, but I guess there's still a lot of new house in me. I want to love the imperfections, but in a weak moment, I want central air and granite countertops so bad I can't take it...
On my worst days, I start to believe that what God wants is perfection. That God is a new-house God. That everything has to work just right, with no cracks in the plaster and no loose tiles. That I need to be completely fixed up. I always think that God's kind of people are squeaky-clean people whose garages don't leak, but really a lot of the people God uses to do amazing things are people who don't necessarily have it all together. A lot of the best stories in the Bible, the ones where God does sacred, magical things through people, have a cast of characters with kind of shady pasts, some serious fixer-uppers.
On my very best days...I practice letting (my house) be an old not-fixed-up house, while I practice being a not-fixed-up person...
I practice believing that, bottom line, God loves me as-is, even if I never do get my act together. I put my hand on the plaster wall, nubbly and textured, and I think thankful thoughts about the walls. Then I put my hand on the floor, and I think thankful thoughts about the floor, even though it's scratched and ridged and you can see where one of my black heels lost its little cap and the metal part left tiny round divots in the floor, over and over, like confetti stamped into the wood. I imagine that God does that to me, puts his hand on my head, on my heart, on my savage insecurities, and as he does it, he thinks thankful thoughts about me."
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