Amy E. Spiegel - Letting Go of Perfect

Copyright 2012 by Amy Spiegel

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America

978-1-4336-7742-7

Published by B&H Publishing Group

Nashville, Tennessee

Amy Spiegel is represented by the literary agency of Wolgemuth & Associates, Inc.

Dewey Decimal Classification: 248.843

Subject Heading: WOMEN \ CHRISTIAN LIFE \ SELF-REALIZATION

All Scripture is taken from the Holy Bible,

New International Version, copyright 1973, 1978, 1984; used by permission.

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 916 15 14 13 12

To Jim, my oasis in exile, my best editor and loudest cheerleader; and to Bailey, Sam, Maggie, and Andrew who ate more pancake dinners than were good for them in order that my dream might come true.

W eve heard the story.

Woman meets man. Woman falls in love. Woman gets married. Woman has babies. Women wants to love Jesus fully, but she just cant seem to manage all of it at once and the bottom falls out a little bit. She doesnt love what she sees in the mirror every morning, and she certainly doesnt fall asleep feeling like she has accomplished all of her this will make the day complete lists.

The truth is, I was never very fazed when friends of mine got married and had kids, because I was certain that they just werent good time-managers. I am efficient to the core. I can wash dishes, scrub counters, read storybooks, answer phone calls, and change diapers as I cook dinner. It cant be all that hard to do what I need to do to keep things going, right?

The truth is, if you had met me when my first two were babies, you might have believed me. I kept things orderly. I was Suzie-homemaker with two little red-headed cuties, and I always had make-up on. I dont know why I am still impressed by this, but I am. Nice work, Ang.

But under the make-up? Different story.

I was still pretty early in my marriage, and I underestimated what a good marriage needed in order to thrive. I was relatively young in my faith as well, and, you guessed it... I wasnt spending the kind of time I should have with the Lord.

I was exhausted. I was disappointed in myself. I was trying too hard to be something God never created me to be.

I know its nearly impossible in this life of Im just trying to get to the cash register without seeing twenty magazines that make me feel ugly, but we have to surround ourselves with people who speak truth to our ragged souls.

Amy Spiegel is one of those people, and I treasured reading her words because they reminded me that behind every woman we encounter is a story that cant be told from her lipstick or her minivan. What I love about Amy is that she can artfully manage to talk about free-range organic meat, homeschooling, and Target in a ten-page span. I need women like this in my world, who understand where Im coming from when I say Im tired of working so hard to still be such a mess.

There have been many, many days since my youngest were babies that I still feel like Im falling off the treadmill in many ways. I wake up time and time again with a mile-long set of expectations and I usually fail by breakfast. Its in our nature to chase after the world, whether its in the grocery store or in the bathroom mirror. But we have a living God who woos us in all of those places if we will only listen. Our identity is there, with Him, and I daily commit myself to believing that truth above all the other noise.

Im so grateful for one more woman stepping up to the plate and sharing her heart so that we can see more of His. Well, done, Amy. I hope to hug your neck in a Target one day and thank you in person.

So, to all of you imperfect womenwelcome to the club.

Make yourself at home, and dont mind the dishes in the sink... Im trying to get my priorities in order and they didnt make it on to the list today. :)

Angie Smith

Author

What Women Fear and I Will Carry You

O ne night, during that short stage of life between coming out from under my parents wings and starting a nest of my own, I went out dancing with friends. A friend was to meet us there and amidst the sea of twenty-somethings, he missed our table. So I hopped up to chase after him only to have my way blocked by another twenty-something. I stepped to the side as did she, in that awkward side-stepping dance we sometimes perform. I looked up to laugh at our mutual error and thought to myself, Isnt she cute, a split second before I realized that she was in fact me.

I was facing a mirror and side-stepping with my own reflection. Awkward.

Fast-forward a decade or so and add a minivan full of kids. I am no longer a twenty-something, and my nights out are more likely to be spent be-bopping down the grocery aisle or vegging out watching the latest chick flick, an exhausted ball of sweatpants and fuzzy socks. Im not complaining.Okay, maybe just a little, but this is my life as a wife and mom, and for the most part I am content. But there are times when I feel as though I am back in that club, thumping dance music replaced by the thumping of my dryer, the hum of conversation replaced by squeals of mischievous delight from the bathtub. Im standing at the mirror, studying an unrecognizable me. I certainly dont long to go back but neither do I desire to be pulled along by the currents.

Attempting to maintain my own sense of self often feels like a nearly impossible balancing act in the midst of this life, so much of which is dedicated to the needs of others. So many of the women I know seem to feel the same tension in their own lives, tottering on the edge, praying someone will be there to catch them if they fall. They might not be faced with the same responsibilities that I have. Some are single with jobs that demand a great deal of energy and outside commitments that consume the rest. Some are older and facing the phase of life that brings the additional responsibilities of grandchildren and aging parents.

I recently attended a prayer group of godly, sincere women, each of whom I admire and respect. I had come to the group disheartened about my own shortcomings and, frankly, feeling a bit intimidated by the accomplishments of the rest of the group. These were the cover girls for Christian womanhood. Smart, together, the kind of ladies that you suspect of wearing capes and leggings underneath their clothes, ready to dash into a nearby phone booth in case of an emergency. I sat in my chair dreading my time to share. I was there to share my prayerrequests and lighten my load of worries and concerns, but all I wanted to do was hide under the coffee table and hope no one noticed me. I was faced with two choiceseither be real and share about how ashamed I was of all the ways I had fallen short in the last few weeks... or lie. As I sat deflated, contemplating my rock and my hard place, the atmosphere began to change. Gone were the superheroes of my imagination. As the evening went on, and the cookies and hot tea worked their magic, woman after woman opened up about her insecurities, fears, and weaknesses. I didnt know whether to rejoice in the fact that I wasnt the only one struggling to keep my head above water or weep at the burden we each seemed to be laboring under.