The other morning LuLu and I rode fifteen miles. It wasn’t pretty, but we did it. (The Cowgirl hasn’t forgiven me yet.) On the ride my thoughts went everywhere. I couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing until I decided to pray. I do that a lot on LuLu. So, I started going down my list of people to lay at the Savior’s feet when all of a sudden, I felt a great need to pray for myself. I don’t do that easily, pray for myself that is, especially when I need to confess something.
I have a glass Christmas angel that I leave sitting out in my house all year round. It's a charming little thing, given to me by a child I used to teach. At first glance the angel is the image of perfection—halo hovering and hands folded in prayer. But if you look closely you'd notice a fine line of Elmer's glue holding one wing in place. Ah, an angel with a flaw.
My angel and I have a lot in common, so riding on LuLu the other morning, I found myself admitting to the Father to a few broken parts myself. It wasn't easy. I like to think that I am someone who has it all together, someone who can handle most anything that comes her way. And, to be honest, I have for the most part. So much so, I find people coming to me with their problems, actually thinking I can help. That humbles me. I'm also embarrassed by it, because deep down, I know I don't have it as together as it looks.
Admitting this means my Elmer's is showing. Confession makes me feel a little less like me, but probably a little more like I should be.
When LuLu and I pulled into the driveway after our trek my legs were wobbly, The Cowgirl was her usual whiny self, but my soul was well.
Let your Elmer’s show today.
See you Thursday,