There are pieces of me that I bare so unabashedly. But those are just pieces. It's not all of me.
I couldn't find my happy place.
I could fall on my knees to pray but down there I was met with crumbs on the carpet and reminded again that I need to vacuum. Then I would just become sleepy.
Some days all I want is to be in a moment- any moment- that is uninterrupted.
There's only so much of me to go around. And I feel like I've been offering up first dibs to all the wrong people and things.
I remember thin and fake wood paneled walls in the upstairs of our old church. The plastic seats and prize bucket if you remembered your verse and brought a friend and your bible.
And this song written big and neat on poster board with colored smelly markers:
He's still working on me to make me what I ought to be.
It took Him just a week to make the moon and stars,
The sun and the earth and Jupiter and Mars.
How loving and patient He must be, He's still working on me.
Hey everyone, I'm under construction! And that's ok.