Sweet, Amazing Grace

I've been worn out lately. Absolutely exhausted.

Every day, I visualize my list of things to do for the day.

Do the laundry.
Watch what I eat.
Actually exercise (for once).
Don't forget that quiet time and Bible study!
Run the errands (go to the bank, run to the grocery store, etc.)
Write someone a card; be an encouragement.
Be more patient.

And it goes on and on, not including my to-do list at work or school.

It's tiring. And the rest of life is the same. I have my list of goals and things to accomplish. I want to get into law school, I want to develop my character over all, I want to be healthy.

I want to be accepted and loved for me.
But the question is: how do I earn that?

Here's the hard part: I don't. My list is one of perfection and seriously unattainable for me. Sure, I write it out as vague goals that all sound good to do. But inside, it's so much more complicated.

I need to be THIS weight and size.
I need to get THIS score on my exams and classes.
I need to get into THIS school and do THIS job.
Otherwise, I'm a failure.

I can't do it. I can't do all of it, I can barely do any of it.

But isn't that the point? I can't do it on my own. And I can't earn perfection.

That's where grace comes in.

Ephesians 2:8-9For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, that no one should boast.

This is grace; that I need not worry, that I need not be anxious, that I rejoice in who God is and what He is doing for me.
That it is not my works and actions that receive glory, but His.

When I remember this, I feel that overbearing burden lifted away from me and feel those loving arms wrap around me. This is grace...this is real love. The kind we all so desperately crave.

And all we need to do is let it go and accept it.

A Belated Father's Day

Father's Day has been one of my leave favourite days for pretty much my entire life. I can't remember ever looking forward to it, but in fact, I would always dread it.

This year, I believe that finally started to change.

My life was the product of a 16 year old girl's mistake. I have very few memories of my father, and throughout the years I've come to terms that I'm better off without him in my life. I have harboured bitterness and resentment towards him for what I saw as abandonment, and for the fact that he was too busy being an addict and a criminal to pay attention to his daughter.

Psalm 68
4 Sing praises to God and to his name!
Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds.
His name is the Lord—
rejoice in his presence!
5 Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—
this is God, whose dwelling is holy.

But more importantly, what I have come to realize is that I am not fatherless. I have my Heavenly Father who has constantly provided for me throughout my life in ways I have only begun to recognize now.

One of these includes the presence of my grandfather, my Papa in my life. He has willingly raised me, as has my Gramma, even though this was not something they had to do.

I know a lot of people would say that it seems obvious they would raise me as their own daughter, since I was their granddaughter. But have you ever thought of the sacrifice that entails? They had to start all over again, when they weren't expecting to have a baby to take care of. They weren't that old, they were still young; too young to be grandparents, but to old to be natural parents. But they did it anyways.

God has blessed me in many ways, but these two people are the greatest of all my blessings. That they would give me a chance at a real life, a full life. I have had people tell me that my childhood and pasts do not reflect the woman I am today, and statistics say I should not be where I am. But I am, I'm here.

I'm here, and I have had this wonderful man in my life to raise me and guide me. I call him Papa, which is a common name for one's grandfather. But sometimes I wonder if it's a coincidence (more likely not) that in French (another language my Papa and I have in common as we have both studied it) that "papa" is an affectionate term; a way of saying "daddy".