10/23/12

Enough.




If I could just keep up with _______, I'd be good. 

 I should be better at ________. 

 I wish I ________.

With a life as crazy and scattered as mine, I should be way too busy living to dwell on negative thoughts. Seriously. I've been too busy to empty the dishwasher for 3 days.

But the truth is, I do.

I haven't blogged in months.

My house desperately needs to be vacuumed.

I gained back half of the weight I battled to lose and have, quite literally, no winter clothing that will comfortably fit me when temperatures drop below 60 degrees. (Which, if you're from south Texas, means that it is the DEAD OF WINTER.)

I'm barely keeping up with deadlines for client projects.

I still haven't enrolled and been accepted into the MBA program I was supposed to have begun already. 

These things, and a million other little truths just like them, weigh heavily on my heart. I'm a perfectionist by nature, and as much as I hate admitting I'm struggling to keep up, my internal dialogue revolves around that fact. Always.

As in, It. Never. Stops. And the chorus to that weighty little ditty goes something like this: I'm not enough.

My heart is crushed under the pressure to be enough, to be worthy of achieving everything I think I should have achieved. I should be giving Him the best, after all. I can do more, achieve more, love more, serve more, pray more, give more, last more, and be more. I know I can.

And I avoid completely surrendering to Him, because I'm not my very best. My prayers become shallower. The few times I talk about it with Him turn into a whine/sigh/gripe that makes me glad I'm not God. ;) For real, y'all. I would get so tired of me!

I know I'm blessed. I know it. But I also know that the life I planned in my head hit high notes I have yet to achieve, far before I started glimpsing 30. I mean.. 30? Clearly, I should already own a vacation home. On an island. Or, you know, the whole island. (In my plans, I'm also generous and philanthropic, so you're totally invited.)

But those plans are my downfall. I like to be in charge. I like to know what's going on. I definitely don't like being told how, when, and where to do something. I won't lie, I struggle with frustration when my plans don't work out.

God's been laying the story of Adam and Eve on my heart lately. They partook of fruits they weren't supposed to touch. God had a beautiful plan already in place, for a care-, pain-, and stress- free life spent frolicking in a beautiful oasis, having face-to-face chats with the God of all creation. All they had to do? Submit. Trust. Let go.

Instead, they made a choice to take control. They decided they could plan their own way. That they could handle the knowledge that would empower them to be in charge.

God knew the way would be tough if they relied on their own knowledge. After all, that wasn't His perfect plan. But they took control. And realized their own faults and shortcomings. In Genesis 3, the Bible tells us they saw themselves naked, and sewed fig leaves together as makeshift clothes for themselves. When they heard the sound of God strolling in the garden in the evening breeze, they hid from God.

God asked: “Where are you?”

And Adam replied: “I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked. And I hid.”

God said: “Who told you you were naked?"

I do the same thing. I surrender to Him, and then snatch the reigns back and drive my buggy off the road again in an attempt to control my life. After all, I know His Word. I know right from wrong - I have that knowledge. And I wrongfully think I can achieve better if I just do this, this, and this. And THEN I'll surrender to Him, a shiny, polished version of me, ready to glorify Him in my perfection.

Silly, isn't it? But that's how perfectionists roll, y'all. It's a lot easier to make plans than to trust ones I haven't engineered myself.

I need to ________. 

First, let me ________.

I should be ________. 

I'm not enough yet.

 But God asks: "Who told you you aren't enough?"

Photobucket
Related Posts with Thumbnails
blog comments powered by Disqus Creative Commons License
[the alohilana blog] by R. Jones is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at alohilana.blogspot.com.