I look at myself anywhere from 5-25 times a day in a mirror. Usually to put in my contact lenses or do my hair or to put make-up on my face. And of course to see how I look in the clothes I put on for any given day.
When I was a teenager I remember looking at myself in the flimsy full-length mirror that hung loosely on the back of my 1970’s bedroom door. I would pinch here and analyze there. I could easily recognize that my figure, especially on the bottom, was very similar to my own Mother’s. I definitely have her legs.
But then I would sit down on the floor in front of that same mirror and look deep into my own eyes, and through my skin and organs and sit in awe and wonder. There, in front of me, reflected in a cheap piece of glass, was this person. And I’d ask… WHERE did I come from? WHO made me? WHY was I formed as I was? WHO WAS I?
It was almost surreal and would send a surge through my being that caused me to get chills and I would feel this deep connection with my own body, parts that I loved and parts I could do with out.
Nowadays I don’t get to look that deep, I simply don’t make the time. I see what I see on the outside and think nothing of what’s really on the inside. I find no time to look deep into my soul.
And no, I’m not necessarily talking about mirrors anymore. I’m also talking about my own spirituality and how it’s currently suffering, grasping for air, if you will.
I won’t go into all the details of how I currently do not find time with my God, the one I KNOW loves me no matter what, no matter how far or close I may feel to Him at any given time. The one that knows my heart and ME inside in out and can see into my soul too.
But it does lay heavy on my heart. As you probably have guessed from this post.
I strive to do better. But I make promises to myself and Him that I cannot seem to keep.
There are days when I question the religion I practice and have chosen to raise my children in. And I’ll admit a big part of me really feels that He doesn’t care about all of that, He simply cares that I live a good, honest, life, while being kind to others and giving to those who are less fortunate than myself.
I go there because it’s tradition, I go because it’s where I feel most comfortable. I go because on the Sundays that I’m not too distracted by children, and can actually hear the priest, I usually feel enlightened and rejuvenated, even if only once a week.
And eating the “bread of life” and drinking from the cup. Well, those things are pretty rejuvenating too.
So right now, that’s pretty much all I get in the way of “God time” these days. (unless you count praying with my boys every night. I suppose you could…)
It’s not a lot and it’s probably not enough but in this season of my life and in the place where I seem to be, it’s the best I can do.
I just hope He understands.
***I wrote this post on Saturday. And then on Sunday I went to church and this was one of the readings that spoke right TO ME: Timothy 1:12-17
“12 And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord who has enabled me, because He counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry, 13although I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and an insolent man; but I obtained mercy because I did it ignorantly in unbelief. 14And the grace of our Lord was exceedingly abundant, with faith and love which are in Christ Jesus. 15This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. 16However, for this reason I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show all longsuffering, as a pattern to those who are going to believe in Him for everlasting life. 17Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, to God who alone is wise, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”
And then the cantor (song leader) sang a beatuiful song in which the chorus rang out “Your Grace is Enough…”
I should know better. He’s always showing me his grace and mercy. Always.