What does it mean to live a half-ass life?
I realize that title can be confusing - or even off-putting. I only half-care.
That is the half of my ass that I am giving up. The half that cares whether something is perfect or not rather than if something is done. If the encouraging words were the perfect words rather than if they were said. Whether the time spent with my kids was the most educational and edifying rather than if I was present in the moment, their moment.
The half I’m giving up is the half that is all about me. My image, my perceptions, my control.
I’m giving up control.
We’re in a season right now where God isn’t showing us anymore than the step we’re on. And asking us to trust Him in that. We are listing our house…when the market has taken a downturn. Was it the right move or not? We don’t know. We’re taking a class in trusting God that His promise is true that as we make our plans He will direct our steps. He’s done it in the past and I’m told He’s an unchanging God. I’ve seen that He is an unchanging God.
This has caused me to be faced again with the ugly reality of my heart. I have grown in maturity and wisdom and yet…sigh…there’s still so much fallen human-ness in the cabinets of my heart. Why is it even there? Like the collection of never used kitchen gadgets in the back of a drawer I cleaned out. I didn’t even know I had them until this situation forced me to confront them.
We prepared our house to sell it and it brought into sharp focus the fingerprints covering the bottom four feet of all of our walls. We have removed a truckload of giveaway and three black trash bags of garbage…from our what-seemed-to-be fairly uncluttered home.
Situations change what is in focus.
In making the decision of whether or not to sell our house…and when…and for how much…and where we’d move if it did sell…it brought some things into focus that had gone unseen for awhile.
Like my desire to control the narrative. My uncertainty of how to know, I mean know-know, God’s will. Hidden layers of perfectionism that seem to come up like weeds in a well-cared-for garden. (I just weeded! How are they back??)
It’s not been an easy or pretty process. But it’s been just that - a process. It took some energy, time, and attention but the excess stuff has started to be purged (I know there’s more!), the wall paint has been retouched (and there’s already another hand print, what!?), and I am surrendering my control. Again. And I’ll need to do it again in five minutes, I’m sure, for the same reason there is already a hand print on my freshly painted wall. Because…life. (Not children. That wasn’t what I was thinking.)
This is me just confessing that I’m half-assing this thing whole-heartedly. I’m excited. Not about a plan, because I have none. But about God. And a new season. And learning to love Him better and to lose a little more of myself in Him.
Because it's His fingerprints that I want all over my life.
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