Perfectionism like fingers around my neck.
Strangling me.
Screaming for one thing or another.
The wanting. In my life.
Getting a hold. Things beyond my reach.
Knowing better really.
Going round and round.
In futile attempts.
But one thing getting the attention.
Again and again.
The scream that won't die.
For the want. A life full.
And not knowing the how.
To get there.
Collaging words. Snapping beauty everywhere I go.
The hunt.
And in the hunt.
What I am learning. Even now.
Broken.
A theme in life.
With God. Myself. And others.
Fear bellowing loud.
Exploding on the page.
Daily lack showing up hungry.
Throwing off track.
Scaring. Isolating.
And me.
Running to whatever fixes.
For a while.
And it's been a theme.
In this space.
Because maybe you too.
The reminding.
And the best counseling.
Sometimes a friend.
Having already dug deep.
And in the safety. I find.
The not-giving of trite.
Or disguised contempt.
Or weary showing through.
But gently. Humbly.
The redirecting.
Reframing of the snap shots.
Of everyday life.
Because.
When we take off our mask.
In the real and the messy.
And still. Do not scare.
When judgment does not knock us over the head.
In the reality of who we are.
And the scream dying a thousand deaths.
In the gift of grace.
We stop being scared.
Stop running.
Turning around.
And really see.
A love story never more beautiful.
Jesus. Full of grace and truth.
And so.
Finding the intimacy I crave.
A life full. Of Him.
The unmasking. Gloriously liberating.
And offering it. My broken.
To a world that sometimes scorns.
Knowing all along.
It may not be enough.
Or it may be too much.
But offering it anyway.
Why did I ever start this?
Because.
Talking about the grace of God makes me come alive.
