Yesterday I posted about being mindful of what I leave behind. In other words, how am I relating to people and what am I giving them? When they remember our conversation or point of contact, what things have left a lasting impression…good or bad?
One of my readers commented about being convicted of this very thing but in relation to her home, her own family. I thought about this all night.
Hope Unbroken said, "..perfect. and it brings to mind what i am leaving with those IN MY OWN HOUSE. i fear my aroma around here is often what it should not be, in spite of the scented lotion i use after the shower! i know this because i see it coming back at me in the attitudes of my children. . . convicting thoughts today. thanks for sharing!"
And then this morning one of my teenagers and I had an exchange that wasn’t so pure and lovely. Not that I cursed or stomped or threw my keys (no matter how bad I may have wanted to), but I was clearly frustrated and angry and probably (definitely) made the situation worse by my reaction and the way I chose to respond.
I am a work in progress.
I try. I fail. I try again.
God extends grace.
And then on the way to school (with my kids still in the car) I stopped at a four-way stop sign. I clearly stopped first but the big, bully of a truck on my left proceeded to go at the same time I did and I was in no mood to give. He almost ran me over. But I made it through first and was sure to give my meanest, dirtiest look as I passed by. Hmph. Teach him.
I try. I fail. I try again.
More grace.
He is teaching me and training me and molding me. He is correcting me and rebuking me and exposing me. He is loving and forgiving and merciful and grace-FULL.
It is easy to sit at a computer screen and type words that encourage and build up. It is easy to tell someone else, “You can do this.”
But sometimes, when I’m sitting here in my pajamas, hair uncombed, house dirty, bills due, kids fighting, projects unfinished…in all my messiness and all of life that is sometimes hard and sometimes not what I had planned, a voice (you know the one) whispers, “You can’t do this.”
It’s right at that very moment I have a choice. A very important choice. A life or death choice, really.
Sometimes it’s an easy choice, but a lot of times I struggle. I struggle to believe that He would use me, the me who at the end of any given day feels all used up. That He would love me, the me who is often so unlovely. That He would choose me, the me that sometimes rejects Him and doubts and denies and forgets.
But He does.
He chooses me.
And He chose you.
And He’s not going to change His mind, no matter how many times we do.
So, today, I try again.
I choose Him.
I choose to be corrected and molded and made into His image.
I choose to push through the difficult days knowing that He is here and He is cheering me on.
I can’t do this…alone. But with Him, nothing is impossible.
Choose Him.
Choose life.
Choose to listen to the voice that says, “You can do this.”
And when you try and fail (or scream at your teenager or give dirty looks to the guy trying to run you over), receive His grace, and try again.
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Today I am linking with Shanda and others.
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