Just Being

Sometimes I stand in front of a mirror and wonder.

What am I doing here?

Sometimes I stare at the mirror and scowl.

Why did I say that?

Other times, I pass by my reflection and think.

Why should people listen?

Or, how could I be so simple?

Or, what can I do differently?

Then comes a stage of productivity.

Of pouring over books and videos.

Of journaling and planning.

All is in its place.

Everyone is served.

Cups, filled to their brim.

Nods of approval and finally accolades.

Although never crossing beyond the point of “It’s a definite maybe”.

Yet, there is always more to be done.

Relationships to nourish.

Minds to mold, one way or another.

Money that needs to be spent.

All decisions confronted by violent criticisms, from others trying to place themselves.

I can’t handle it.

I’m not brave.

So, I hide.

All the work comes to a halt.

Food is ordered.

Laundry accumulates.

Everyone is loud and lacking.

It’s just not good enough.

From the cool wood floors, where my knees find rest.

I crawl to the nearest mirror.

What I see is always lacking.

It just needs more.

I have found, in the Bible,

That it is not by works but by grace, that we will see heaven.

That’s good, I consider.

As I am not pretty enough, strong enough, kind enough or smart enough for that.

I wonder at my puffy eyed reflection.

Did the creator intend for me to be?

This nervous, angry, frizzy haired person?

Too scared to create.

Too scared to befriend.

Too scared to make a mistake.

But still searching, begging, craving for the uncommon.

For understanding when the words aren’t right.

For kindness to avoid breaking.

For patience for the repeat offenses.

For just being outside of the world's view of passable.

So I sing.

“This grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home”.