Baring All

Brace yourself.

I'm going to be open and honest.

Not that I usually lie to you. But there are things I hide. Things I don't let anyone see. Information I don't willingly offer up.

But I'm trying to, like, grow as a person.

And that means shedding some inhibitions.

And owning up to mistakes.

And not trying to be perfect.

So, in the interest of full disclosure, here are some unedited photos of my kitchen counters. Mind you, this is the rule, not the exception around here:

And that's just a small taste of the mess that is my house.

I'm a master of illusion. I only show you what I want you to see. I shove papers into boxes and toys under beds. I let the laundry pile grow to overflowing, and then shove it all on my bed when company comes over.

And it doesn't stop with my house. I hide a myriad of physical flaws with makeup, styled hair, and clothes that are fashionable enough to distract you from all the insecurities I have about my body. I'm paranoid about my stretch marks and teeth and flab, so I'll do what I can to limit exposure to those areas. There ain't nothing like a good pair of Spanx.

And then there's my personal life. I'll never tell you in the lobby at church that I sometimes leave my kids in front of the tv so I can do things that I want to do, or that I worry that my future daughters in law won't like me, or that Seth and I have had anything less than a fairy tale marriage. I won't tell you that I'm struggling with consistent Bible reading or that prayer groups at church make me cringe inside.

So much of my life has been characterized by my own insecurities.

But, I'm beginning to see that I don't have to live that way, nor do I want to.

I'm learning to accept flaws and confront things that need to change. To break walls down and let people see me for what I am.

I'm nothing special. I'm just a woman like any other. Some days I hate my appearance. Some days my kitchen looks like a disaster. Some days my life isn't pretty.

But, praise God, my worth as his daughter isn't found in any of these things.

God knows my secrets. God understands my heart. My flaws and failures have no bearing on his love for me and interest in me. He's my Abba, no matter what.

And it's all because of Christ that I can be called his child, miserable screw up that I am.

So if I'm going to boast in anything, let it be in my failures, so that Christ is magnified in comparison.

Maybe someday I'll show you pictures of my basement. Or my yard.

Baby steps.