Dare to Compare

I have a running list of my favorite Christian blogs. Because I am a woman writer and mother, I look for others of the same ilk.

A few in particular come to mind whose words are poetic puzzles that I enjoy putting together. It seems as though they have a beautiful abundant life and even when they write of their messiness, it, too, is with beauty and grace. So their lives must be easy pieces of pie and sweet hymns, right?

I mean, look: she lives in the country on a farm raising a gaggle of kids. I live in a city and am a sort-of-Mom (i.e. step) to three.

She goes to a quaint country church where decoration is stripped down so only the holy remains. My church (bless it!) is not made of wooden clapboard, but has a distinct 1970s feel, rather than 1870.

Their family shares regular prayer time, hymn singing, and mission talk. We're just introducing confirmation class to our eldest who is having a rough time with it and are getting the younger two into Sunday School.

You see? It's easy for me to compare our lives. Look how gentle X is with her child who misbehaved. Why can't I do that in such a Godly way?

But look deeper and realize the crazy truth: that we're the same. X is no better than me. X yells at her children just as often as I gently coax apologies out of mine. These women aren't some sainted, chosen women who perfect the world with their words. They bless and enhance this world because of their willingness to share, but I am - or can be - just as much a contributor to this wonderful world as they are.

Our new house, beneath melting snow, has the promise of dozens of flowers and landscaped plants. It isn't a field of wildflowers to trollop through, but it's God's beauty all the same. God blesses us all.

So if you ever read this blog or my articles and think, boy, she is gracefully perfect, I beg you to look at my chewed nails, dark eye circles, and therapy bills. And yet I have a loving, God-fearing husband, three affectionate stepchildren and a house more beautiful than I'd ever dreamed of.

We're all blesed. Us bloggers or writers just choose to chronicle those blessings. So the next time you're tempted to say, "Oh, X has such a better/cleaner/more organized life than mine," remember that we are all as different as we are the same - and that maybe is the most beautiful, imperfect thing of all.

Bless you.