I am hard on myself. Too hard some people say.
It's only because I know I'm the first Jesus my children will see.
I am the one who will establish Christ to them.
My actions equate to His.
I just can't take the pressure.
It's too much.
Because, well, as much as I love Jesus and long to live as He did, I am not Him.
And my failure days are my whipping days.
I beat myself up. And wince at my shortcomings.
I wake up wondering if today my children might see Christ a little more clearly.
my feet hit the floor and I am
moving, running, working, earning, gaining, losing...
and I show my weakness.
My humanness shines like the sun.
Another reason to keep me up tonight...my again-failure.
I crouch low to apologize for harsh words
or erroneously vented frustration.
For quick tempers
or rolling eyes.
For selfish agendas
or broken promises.
My eyes leveled with theirs.
And then a hug,
an "I forgive you",
an unaltered trust.
Two things I know...
In my contriteness,
they can see Jesus quite clearly
In their forgiveness,
I can too.