God has never required us to be perfect to be in His presence.
In my mind I know this, but in my actions, my soul, my convictions . . . Well, that’s another story. Or another lie.
Frankly, On Faith . . . : My Imperfect Bible Reading
The enemy will use whatever he can to get to us, and that includes climbing inside our heads and making us think our thoughts are our own. But we can conquer those negativities one at a time.
When I chose to embrace my imperfections for this year, it opened up an attitude of joy. I’m no longer stressed or struggling to make everything “just right.”
It’s okay if my apartment is messy or I didn’t wash the car last week. I don’t have to balance the budget every day, and ice cream once in a while is good for my mood. Scribbles aren’t the death of a notebook. [That’s a big one!]
I bought a new Bible for the year. It’s the C.S. Lewis Bible, NRSV. I’m enjoying it abundantly. The quotes and meditations included from Mr. Lewis give new or refreshed insight into certain passages.
I even bought a cover and tabs. All went well until I placed 2 Kings under 1 Kings.
Frankly, On Faith . . . : My Imperfect Bible Reading
I could have become angry at myself. Frustrated. Disappointed. I could have tried to remove the tab, thus ripping the page. I could have carefully cut the tab and repositioned it with regular tape. I could have placed the next tab in its place. Or I could leave it as a reminder that I’m not perfect, but God loves me anyway.
Do you think God cares about the placement of Bible tabs? Only so much as it satisfies my soul. But if I allow the imperfect positioning of those tabs to come between me and God, that’s a whole ‘nother story.
The Bible tells us over and over of imperfect people whom God chose to deliver His message: Moses, Joseph, Esther, Paul . . . so why would He expect perfection of little ol’ me and not them?
Frankly, On Faith . . . : It is never a requirement to be perfect to be loved by God.
Answer: He wouldn’t.
No, O people, the LORD has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God.
~Micah 6:8 NLT
God sees through to the parts of our hearts we’re unaware of. And if He can do that, and still love us as His own, why shouldn’t we love ourselves? Forgive ourselves? Respect ourselves?
Answer: We should.
Because in doing so to ourselves, it reflects outward and we will love, forgive, and respect others more.
I missed the last three days of Bible reading. The first day I thought I was too busy. The second day I was definitely too tired from being too busy on Day One. The third day I was catching up on what I didn’t do on Day Two. Yeah, I feel a little bad about not making my Bible reading a priority. But I did do some reading, and that’s a start.
Frankly, On Faith . . . : My Imperfect Bible Reading
Even without catching up on my reading, God still spoke to me.
How will you let Him speak to you today?
With an open heart and open hand,
Happy Sunday.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
Can I just tell y’all how hard it is for me to write this post? I mean this post, with that word in the title. Oh, yes. THAT word.
PERFECT.
It’s like a flashing neon arrow pointing right at me, screaming “HYPOCRITE!”
It’s a little funny, dontcha think? After last month’s post about embracing my imperfections? The thing is… I just don’t know where to start. Wait. That makes it sound like I have way too many imperfections. Okay, stop nodding in agreement, brother. I know where you live.
Frankly, My Dear . . . The Perfect Start
Anyway. I’m imperfect. CHECK. But I’m trying. CHECK. And I want to move forward. Uhm, check?
How does a perfectionist move forward with imperfections? Well, for This Girl, I’m just gonna start. Someone once told me, “Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step forward.”
I HAVE LISTS.
#truestory. I have list upon list upon list of things I want to do this year. Posts to blog. Books to read. Things to learn. Recipes to create. Experiences to, well, experience.
I’ve already embraced the imperfections of my planning skills and allowed myself to scribble in my Happy Planner. *gasp* Insert SCREAM face here, right?!
Well, being as I’m now what is known as a true Southerner, I queried my local writing friends over a cup of Starbucks. Cuz, you know, we’re writers. We need the coffee to do the thinking to do the writing. And I’m an extrovert. I need the talk to do the energy to do the writing. Put me in a social setting with caffeine and BAM! Instant Bohemian Hurricane. Anyway, focus: Yes. I received some excellent advice on doing a blog relaunch. Now, I’m not going to do a big Facebook Live Event. But I am going to narrow my focus. Rather, refocus my focus. Good gravy there’s a lot of focus in this paragraph and I still haven’t gotten to the point. *sigh*
IMPERFECT POST: CHECK.
I’ve kept myself locked in a holding pattern, unable to do anything but circle the target. I can’t fly away, I can’t land. Until I get the gears and the mechanics and the passengers (uhm, that would be all of you) in just the write right place, I can’t do anything. So I do nothing.
BIG UNCHECK HERE, PLEASE.
I’ve been wanting to relaunch Frankly, My Dear . . . with a stronger emphasis on the four tenets I’ve held all along: Faith, Family, Food, and Fun (Fun being the one that incorporates the outings and the writings and the everything elses that happen in life). Edie and Cathy told me to just keep doing what I’m doing. But, keep doing it. Don’t sit back and wait for it to magically appear. After all, Harry Potter doesn’t live in Simpsonville. So, think of the Four F’s as the legs of a table. And you’re all invited. And since I’m a true Southerner now (can y’all tell I just love saying that?!), I want to keep in line with the whole Southern Gone With the Wind “Frankly, My Dear . . .” theme. I mean, I just wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell it like it is from my perspective.
Sidenote: Someone told me it takes ten years to become a true Southerner. Someone else countered it doesn’t take any time at all. In NOLA, Toni tells Josie what it’s like to be a local. This is where my good friend Beckie Lindseywould say, “You’re being Josie!” And this is where I agree.
So, ultimately, it comes down to boiling the potato like this: Do I want to start, or do I want to stagnate? Given that I’m adverse to mold and immobility, I choose the former. And I hope you’ll come to the table. There’s plenty to go ’round. And I hope you’ll keep me accountable to what’s on the menu.
With a heaping plate and a pitcher of tea,
Happy Everything.
~Molly Jo
Zoiks! (Said in my best Scooby-Doo imitation). What a whirlwind. Some might suggest my life has been a bit of a hurricane lately. Hmmm…
I don’t know where I got the idea that being a Bohemian Hurricane went hand-in-hand with perfectionism. ‘Cause you know what? It doesn’t.[Stop nodding, mother. And don’t say anything when we call later.] Anyway, yes. I haven’t blogged because I haven’t written because I’m still unpacking from the beautiful chaos of having moved cross-country six weeks ago and downsized from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment and helping Berry Sunshine cross the Rainbow Bridge and meeting and greeting all the people I moved to be close to and buying winter clothes (for the South? Are you even serious right now?!) and figuring out how to catch my breath and as of this moment, preparing to enjoy my first Southern snowfall. (So, yes. Back to the winter clothes thing. Apparently it is serious down here.) [Note to self: Get Starbucks card for Edie as thank you for finding the perfect coat when I had given up the search.]
Frankly, My Dear . . . That One Time I Didn’t Have to Be Perfect
Now, y’all know part of the main reason I moved was to be needyattach tosurround myself with some of the best writers I know: my peeps from Blue Ridge. Yes, that Blue Ridge. The Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference that I go to each year. The same one where Steve Laube and I are now expected to throw Scooby Snacks at each other every year. The same one where I do incredibly stupid things like shout at people at inappropriate moments (although, really. Bless your heart. Is there ever a wrong time to yell, “You go, girl!” or “Aaron Gansky? Ohmagosh, I know him!”?). The same conference that I attend every May, and every June tell all y’all how my life has changed and I’m better for it, and my writing will be better for it . . . yadayadayada. I. Know.
But this time, it’s different. Because this time, I’m surrounded by perfectly imperfect writing people. And I love them completely. And they love me. As imperfect as I am. What an example! What mentors they are without even trying.
And I realize I don’t have to have a perfectly clean house or perfectly quiet area or perfectly planned plot (Okay, say that last one five times fast!) to accept their friendships. Or to be who I am. I just have to keep writing. Keep cleaning. Keep breathing. Keep being me.
You know . . . Keep on Keepin’ On.
And when I make mistakes, it’s not the end of the world. If I leave a dirty dish in the sink for a day, if I don’t check the mail or respond to a message right away, if I have a typo or missing punctuation, the world doesn’t really end. *GASP*. I know. But it’s true! I’m totally living proof!
I have to stop waiting to get everything perfect in my head and heart before sharing it, even with myself. I have to let go of the image of a perfect Facebook-post-worthy me. Cuz let’s be real. That rarely happens. Snow angels have boot prints leading up to them. My life is quite often the epitome of #NailedItFail, okay?
I gotta take what I have and move it forward. Whatever that means. Hey, you get a small ding on your car, do you junk it? No way. You have a story to tell. Your bananas turn brown before you eat them all. Toss ’em? Uh-uh. Make banana-walnut bread! What am I waiting for?
Imperfections are the lessons we teach ourselves. It’s where we learn to be creative and allow ourselves to find alternate solutions. It’s the pieces of our mosaic selves and the music we didn’t intend to sing.
Imperfections are not failures.
I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.
~Thomas A. Edison
My word for 2019 is IMPERFECT.
And I’m going to embrace it perfectly.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Perfectly Imperfect
With a scribbled-in notebook and a snowflake covered sleeve,
Happy imperfecting.
~Molly Jo
