Present Over Perfect

depends on the sky, the water, the wind.
It’s raining now, and I love the sound of the drops
falling on the awning outside my window, love the smell of
dirt and water, love the way rain necessarily slows
everything and everyone down just a little.
What kept me running? That’s the question I keep
returning to, the lock I keep fiddling with. I was highly
invested in maintaining my reputation as a very capable
person. I thought that how other people felt about me or
thought about me could determine my happiness. When I
see that on the page now, staring back at me in black and
white, I see how deeply flawed this idea is, how silly even.
But this is what I’ve learned the hard way: what people
think about you means nothing in comparison to what you
believe about yourself. Essentially, my identity then
depended on outward approval, which changes on a dime.
So you dance and you please and you placate and you
prove. You become a three-ring circus and in each ring
you’re an entirely different performing animal, anything
anyone wants you to be.
The crucial journey, then, for me, has been from
dependence on external expectations, down into my own
self, deeper still into God’s view of me, his love for me that
doesn’t change, that will not change, that defines and
grounds everything.
I bet it all on busyness, achievement, being known as
responsible, and escaping when those things didn’t work.
What I see now is that what I really wanted was love, grace,