There’s this ideal version of myself that I aspire to be. When I finally (if ever) become her, I won’t be insecure, I’ll be able to accept myself. And in the meantime I just have to endure who I currently am, this less version. As if the person I am right now is just a rough draft.
I came into training camp with a looming fear of being accepted. I just want people to see me and like what they see. And I know that this desire for other’s acceptance stems from my inability to accept myself. I know myself too well. I know my thoughts, my motives, and I don’t like what I see.
But the author of my life doesn’t write rough drafts. The truth (that I continually fail to grasp) is that God won’t love this ideal version of me more than He loves me right now. He already loves me to the fullest, as seen on the cross. There are no red pens, He’s made no mistake. And in accepting this truth, I have no room for the fear of not being accepted, and I can begin the process of allowing others into my narrative.
