Day 10: Wasted grace.

I was so caught up in watching the Golden Globes, and so tired from being brave and leaving the house all morning, that I was crawling into bed at 11:10 and felt like I still had something to do today…and then I remembered this pointless new year’s resolution(is New Year supposed to be capitalized in that case? And if it is should I also capitalize Resolution? Too tired to care or to find out). So I looked up “five minute writing prompts” so I’d know exactly when I could go back to bed.

This one said to write about a poem you’ll always remember. I don’t know if it counts as “always remember” when I only read it two days ago, but I do still remember it and I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then and probably will never forget it because it’s important.

Sidebar, this is the kind of writing I LOVE. When I’m thinking so fast that my wrists ache from typing furiously enough to keep up with my brain and I’m purely thinking, not trying to make my thoughts sound pretty. I’m happy with what’s going on right now. And that Jennifer Lawrence won tonight.

ANYWAYS. I love Tyler Knott and was playing catch up on his work Friday night and this one is just beautiful.
tyler knott 090

Do not waste the grace you were given by refusing to admit it exists.

I can’t read that line and not think of Jesus, even though the poem was written by a Buddhist. I think he’d be all right with my drawing my own meaning from his words. He seems super chill and someday I’m going to Montana to find him and hang out with him.

I think I’ve wasted so much grace the past eight months. Gritting my teeth and going through life exhausting myself trying to be perfect, trying to make myself feel like I deserve for God to love me, like I deserve all the good things he let me have and all the people he put in my life around the world.
I’ve been refusing to admit grace exists, but that doesn’t make it not exist. That just makes me incapable of resting in that grace. I haven’t really rested in anything since May.
I try to earn love and attention from everyone around me when they’d like nothing more than for me to just accept it for free. All I have to do is let them know me, and the more they know me the more they love me. That’s how real community works, but I can’t wrap my head around that, so I keep insisting on paying for it.

That’s what I need to be practicing. I like having a project. But calling it that sounds like it probably defeats the purpose.

I wrote for about twelve minutes, so it’s good that I’m not getting paid to write for only five. Time limits have always stressed me out anyways.


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