Today I received a book in the mail from a friend. In the envelope with the book were some handmade goodies, a few pictures, and a travel pack of tissues. The conclusion I’ve chosen to believe is that this book, Grace for the Good Girl, is going to make me cry. Probably a lot. So I’m going to read and blog and cry my way through it. I’m taking you along for the ride. Don’t worry, you can thank me later.

Let me start by saying this, I have always been a “good girl”. I got good grades. I aimed to please. I was never happy with less than perfection. That being the case, I was never happy. Along the way, there was always someone willing to overlook all the good, smart, funny, creative things I did to point out the one detail I missed. When I finally realized that I was never going to be “good enough” (whatever that means), I started throwing off my good girl cape. I was sneaky, devious even. Some acts were small, with little to no consequence if I was caught. Others were life-changing.

I didn’t have a relationship with God to speak of. I grew up in a church with extremely flawed leaders, and didn’t understand what was so great about being a Christian. I just knew that the things I was going through were too small to bother God with. He was obviously busy dealing with things like war and poverty. I figured it served me right when I decided to have premarital sex only to get pregnant at 19. It was my own stupid fault when I lost the baby at nine weeks. If I had just been good, none of it would have happened. God would know that, and therefore I didn’t take my pain, loss, utter brokenness to Him. He was already there in my mind with an “I told you so,” just waiting.

It is always after I make one of those mistakes that I should have known better that I hide from God. I know when I’m doing wrong, and a voice in my head tells me that this time God is going to be fed up. Asking for forgiveness isn’t going to be enough this time, so I’d better get it together for real. My phantom takes over and rewrites who I “should” be or how I’m “supposed” to act.

But you know what? I don’t get it together. I sin. Repeatedly. When it comes down to it, I’d rather listen to gossip about you than invite you over for coffee. I like being alone. It gives me less opportunity to embarrass myself, or to hurt your feelings. Some days I cuss just because I don’t feel like God could possibly want anything to do with me anyway, so what difference does it make?

And then it all falls apart. That’s the worst. When I can’t cover my brokenness, and hide who I really am anymore. Those are the days I truly loathe myself because I have people who love me enough to be able to see (or hear or sense) that I’m not OK. The days I have to pour out the shame and the anger and the words that just won’t stop.

But there is good news. The day after that, I realize those people (and God) still love me. Dirty, broken, unworthy, imperfect me. And suddenly, the pain is worth it.