I’m me. Not her. Not the girl with the blog next door. Not the mom with the always-clean house and the well-dressed kids.
I am myself. With all my quirks, all my faults, and all my [too few?] successes. I wasn’t made to fit the mold of someone else. Even those that I admire, those that have reached a plane that I can only aspire to- I can’t be that person. I can only be me.
And yet, that person, that me, is special. It’s who God made me. He made me with faults so my husband could complete me with his perfection. He made me with good qualities so I could compliment my husband’s faults. Best of all… he made me with failings and holes, just so He could bring in His own completeness.
And… He made you, too. He made you incomplete so you could be completed. Yo are not a failure… merely unfinished. You lack that finer polishing that comes through life. Just that final touch of the sandpaper to smooth you out.
And in that incompleteness, you are beautiful.