“Momma, what would you tell younger you?”

“A lot.”

“What would you change….?”

“Not one thing.  The choices I made, made me and made you.  You are my greatest blessing, treasure and gift.  To change any of my choices good or bad, right or wrong, would mean I would forgo my greatest gift, you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

My oldest daughter, Shelby and I listen intently to the radio as we make our way down the familiar windy road that leads to home.   The last refrain of the song, Dear Younger Me, repeats it’s counsel to me.  “You are holy.  You are righteous. You are one of the redeemed.”

The simple yet profound song words penetrate my heart, if I knew then what I know now.  It was Shelby’s question to me but I was already deeply pondering my answer.

Her inquiry hung out in the air floating for only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.  It never fails, the best conversations with my teenagers always somehow find their way to me in the car.

So many things to tell her, I roll it all around in my head, where do I even begin?

So I start with this one thing.

I used to think I had to be perfect for God to use me.  Well, actually, just perfect period.  When my girls were little, I hated when they mixed all the playdoh colors.  Out of the containers the colors were so vibrant, beautiful, perfect; but once they started playing, they would merge together to a muddy, mucky brown.  Each time, I would fight the urge to declare, please don’t mix the colors.  

I strove for excellence in almost every area of my life, school, grades, job, my children; checking off all the right boxes, following all of the rules.  God does put the desire for perfection inside each of us, because of our ultimate yearning for heaven.  But I had taken the striving too far.

On one of the darkest days of my life, I sat in front of my friend Helen, pouring out my heart out.  Helen and I had been friends for about four years, but not the deep kind of friendship that is born out of fire, not yet anyway.  She listened to my soft, tender broken heart and didn’t offer “to fix” anything.  She couldn’t fix my hurting heart.   But what she did say, changed my life.  “I like you better this way.”

Warm, healing tears ran down my cheeks.  She liked me better like this.  Not perfect, but broken, real, authentic and vulnerable.

Her words reminded of the Japanese ancient pottery art called Kintsugi, that I had learned about only a few weeks before.  In Kintsugi, the artist carefully, painstakingly mends broken pottery with inlaid gold often making it more beautiful and more valuable than the original piece.  They believe that real beauty is revealed when something has suffered damage and has a history.

The bible tell us that our trials are refining us too, making us new; something more precious than gold.

These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold–though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.  1 Peter 1:7

I used to think I had to be perfect for God to use me, now I know He uses my brokenness for me and for others.  He is using me inside of my brokenness so others can see the real me and I can see the real God.

Maybe He uses us to climb mountains, write books or songs, or maybe He uses us to wipe a tear, share a meal, smile at a stranger.  He is always using us for one another and it’s all good, all for HIS ultimate glory.

Perfection is not possible in this life and failure has been my best teacher, it has caused me to run to HIM.  Failing just means we have to pick ourselves up and try again.  We only lose if we stop trying, so don’t give up.  I have learned not to strive for perfection but instead to rest in His perfect plan.

And I trust that He has it all in HIS hands.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Jeremiah 29:11

I have learned I cannot control life, it’s messy.  But now, I see beauty in the broken and the messy.  We are all broken in some way, pieces of Kintsugi pottery.

It’s an arduous process, but I am being loving restored by my Artist, bit by bit.  I take comfort in the “work in progress”, knowing that result is producing a Faith far more valuable than gold.

My girls don’t play with playdoh anymore but if they did, I would tell them,

“Go ahead, mix it ALL up!” 

This is not the only thing I shared with Shelby during our ride, but it was the first.