Last Wednesday in my ladies bible study, one of the other women casually dropped a bomb in my world. She probably didn’t even know it wrecked me. But it did. She said, quite simply,
when you get right down to it, we’re all hot messes.
That was it. It was in the context of a bigger discussion on housekeeping and kids and never ever feeling like we can get it all done or live up to the magazine cover perfection the world says we need to live up to. It was in the context of happily choosing to play with our children or read just one more book to a sleepy child instead of making sure the dishes are always done and the floors always vacuumed.
She was right, but I kept wanting there to be an asterisk at the end of that statement. You know, the one that reads
*except for ME
If we’re all just hot messes, then that means I’m a hot mess too. And if I’m a hot mess then I can’t be perfect. And if I’m not perfect then… I’m a mess… and I’m vulnerable… and you might not like my mess.
(Don’t even get me started about the yoga pants again.)
Yes. I’m a Mess.
I fall down.
I screw up.
I roll around in failure for awhile before I get back up.
I’d love to make this whole mom-gig look easy. I wish I could tell you how to balance writing, homeschooling, housekeeping, the gym thing, the bible study thing, and the marriage thing. I wish I had some great advice on how to get through the week without losing your sanity… or your temper… or your sense of self.
The truth is that I can’t because I haven’t figured it all out yet.
(Admitting that is hard ladies. Pushing the publish button on this thing feels like a punch in the gut.)
I can get one little piece of it figured out at a time… and for a brief moment that little corner of my world runs smoothly. But while I’m busy holding on to that tiny piece of the puzzle, something else breaks loose.
The truth is hard.
The truth is that I keep wanting to get everything all perfect and figured out and then say “OK God, I’m ready. Go ahead and use me.” I keep holding on to that desire even though I pretty certain that’s not exactly how this thing works. I keep arguing with God about “my credibility” long after any sane person would.
(Wouldn’t you know it, just when I thought I’d figured out a decent mess/credibility balance for my blog, my friend goes and drops a bomb on things. It’s been one of those months.)
The truth is you couldn’t even fill a tea-cup with what I know. I may not ever figure out how to keep up with the laundry or get my kids to cheerfully do their chores or paint perfect chevrons in my bathroom.
But, I know one thing for certain.
My mess is more beautiful with Jesus then it ever would be without Him.
I know I said “when I was at my messiest I was my furthest away from hot.” I stand by that because I know the truth. When I was at my messiest, I was my furthest away from Jesus.
You know what else?
YOUR mess is more beautiful with Jesus than you can possibly imagine.