Family is one thing. Then you add in work responsibilities. Church. Friends. And is there even something called 'dating'?
But I'm a stubborn chick with a chin made of steal and heels dug in deep. Don't you dare cut off too much of me, because I'll fight you tooth and nail before you get my fists.
I think we have to be that way...violently protective of who we are. The only person that is allowed to completely hack me to bits and pieces is Jesus. But here's the thing, friends: Jesus is perfectly happy with the whole person I already am. I know this because it is who He has created. I might put a few scraps and dings in myself, but He is right there, quick to polish me back up. And not only does He polish me and make me shine...but He brings me up to His lips, breathes a quick little puff of air, and gets what teeny tiny little specks of dust were hidden from the eye. Then He puts me back down, smiles at what He thinks if perfectly beautiful and says, "Try not to fall down this time...but if you do, well, I will be right here."
I'm not saying there's not a lot of things about me He would rather I get rid of...but it is HIM who GENTLY removes those things through storms and brokenness. It is HIM who tenderly reaches deep within my heart to pluck what cannot stay. But for the most part, me, Gia, as a whole...pleases Him greatly.
There's no point in allowing everyone to saw away and cut and take from what little of me there is. Things can wait. Kids, yes, can even wait. What comes first is maintaining a part of me that can still sparkle and shine for the love of Jesus. Am I disheveled, are my kids a little sticky and dirty-faced? Yep. All the time. Do I volunteer and jump at the chance to serve wherever there is a need. Nope...I do not. Do I let people try to change me...tell me to lift myself up to a level I've never been before. Not a chance, dude. 'Cause the only person lifting me up and placing me anywhere is my Jesus. And like I've said, He is lifting me up from where I fell, polishing me up, blowing off the dust...and setting me right back down where I was.
Doesn't make sense, does it? All the above is a pile of twisted, half-written thoughts from a ragamuffin heart.
But it makes sense to me.