When I die, cremate me with all my journals and crummy short stories; Mix my ashes with a pack of lupine seeds and plant me under a pine tree at dusk.
It is a romantic thought, if I save you from the preceding one.
The thought in which I considered my death. Thought about how, the world I inhabit could do a little better next round. Like how my husband could choose a woman who could keep up with him. Like how I wish my children had a supermom…they deserve better than what they got. I imagine they could come across a woman strong enough to parent our daughter, gentle enough to mother our son.
I want better for you too. I want a pastor’s wife for you who inspires you to righteousness. Who makes you want to join in this story and adventure. One who is wise and brave who shows up when you need her.
I want a better daughter for you, a better friend, a better sister, I want to be better for all of you. You deserve better.
But here is the thing. I am the one here now. I know better than these thoughts. I know better. Stop that email you are composing about my worth put the facebook comment away about how I am the mother meant for these children. I know that I have the capacity and the wisdom to love my kids well, to lead them.
I am the one here now. I am the one tasked with the ministry of these 18 inches in front of me. We are forgetful though aren’t we?
We need to remember.
I think we all feel this way some of the time and so we don’t step up and choose the life meant for us. We all feel like frauds, fear that any moment now someone will show up, figure out mind reading and will put all our sin and disfuntion on display. We will be shown for the short cut takers we are.
These thoughts keep us from being bold enough to step a little further in our calling. So many trade the crown of authority for the sludge of mediocrity, let insecurity rule when faith should.When we fail, when we compare, when we measure our progress – spiritual or physical. When we falter. We step away from the call on our lives.
There are people better than me at everything in my life. But they are not here, do not have the authority to breathe on the lives before me. I am called to this space…only me. YOu are called to your space…only you. Tomorrow, may we walk into our days knowing this truth.
Grace. It smells live wildflowers not yet in bloom, apple blossoms, whatever that pink burn on the horizon might smell like.