Transition and the ugliness of pride

It's been a really long time since I sat before my computer and wrote a blog. I've been struggling terribly since I returned from Afghanistan. Transition is hard, they say. "They" are always so full of great wisdom. I got married to the most amazing man. All of those years I struggled with singleness, all of those years, I accused God of withholding from me, all of those wasted moments pining, when I should have been trusting. God is faithful. He had the one who was tailor made for me, but wasn't ready. I should also mention I wasn't ready. Oh, in my pride I thought I was. But as always God had to break me before He could use me to be a wife. I wake up every morning thanking God for the man sleeping beside me. I couldn't have dreamed up a better one. I thank Him for our marriage and for all we have collectively been through that has taught us to appreciate each other.

Our marriage is good. I'd say amazingly good, great even.

Yet, life is still hard. I have a difficult time leaving my house. The world in America is so big, busy, and confusing. In Afghanistan, I knew who I was and what I was doing. I knew how to get things done. I knew that what I was doing had meaning. I suffered, daily, badly, but I knew it was for a higher cause. Yesterday, I read this:10 Things Missionaries Won’t Tell You I had to agree. There were so many things that I couldn't put into a newsletter. I still won't write it all, if you want to know, ask me. My dear friend, Dr. Jerry told me once that he didn't think anyone would believe me if I told my whole story, but that he'd write the forward to my book as a witness that it was all true. Sadly, Jerry is gone, another loss to so many...

Here in America, I don't know who I am. I'm a wife, so I start out Monday mornings planning meals for the week, making a shopping list, then heading out. But, I'm afraid. I go into the store and though I've explored and I know where everything is that I need, I'm afraid I'll do something wrong, or stupid. My feet are injured, so it's a double whammy in that I need to use the motorized cart.

I want to swim, because it's one of the few exercises that I can do. But I go to the pool, and I'm afraid again that I'll mess something up, or get in someone's way, or do something stupid.

I want to socialize, so I invite people over for dinner, but I never feel like I'm doing it right. It's scary, because I don't remember what the norm is here, and I've never been a married couple before, so I'm not sure how to be...

Last night, we had our church home group over, and yes, it's terrifying to me, because I don't think I can do it well enough, and any criticism just confirms to me that I'm just not good enough.

So, this morning, I read this: One Way to Kick Your Fears to the Curb at the Start of A New Week and I was convicted to the bone. I need to not care if I look stupid. I need to let go of the fear of messing up and just embrace the mess that I currently am. I've become a perfectionist, and anything less than perfect can't exist in me, which makes me ugly, anxiety-ridden and worst of all: unloving.

So, here I am, this mess, learning that God still loves me, learning that though I can't do much to serve anyone right now, because of my feet, He still adores me, because I'm His, and that's all that matters. I can lay down my pride and fear, and not care how foolish I look to the rest of the world, because I'm loved. And, when I lay down my pride and fear, I'm free to love others even in their own messiness.