Yikes, I’m falling behind, both in my writing and in following the blogs that I typically check in on. Last week I kept putting it off, and this week I’ve been insanely busy. Good busy, but crazy.
One of my last minute projects…Halloween costumes for the boys. I told myself I’d be on top of it this year; I told myself I’d be ready with hand sewn costumes in plenty of time. And then Gates kept changing his mind about what he wanted to be, and I kept trying to figure out how to make it on the cheap, and I kept forgetting about a costume for Indy because he hasn’t figured out that he might have a say in the matter. So, on Saturday Gates decided he wanted to be a turtle. I honestly don’t know why, but I jumped on it because, hey, paper mache is free and I had chicken wire to make a frame. So every day I’ve been frantically adding layers and yesterday I slapped some brown and green splotches on it. And today I figured out how to rig it onto him by (get ready for it…) stapling him into it with a piece of black fabric for the front. Yes folks, that is what my darling child’s costume is made of, about one dollar’s worth of chicken wire, paper, flour, paints, black fabric and staples. Rivaled only by Indy’s Tony Stewart costume, which is made out of ANOTHER scrap of black fabric, a Home Depot patch, black sweatpants and a ball cap. Did I mention he will be pinned into his costume?
So, Martha Stewart I will never be. Oh, I start out with great aspirations. I can picture fabulous costumes, marvelous home decor, designer-like shirts all made by little old me. But my reality just never lives up to my visions. In fact, it falls so far short that sometimes I wonder why I bother trying at all. I have friends who can take a few items and make spectacular fall arrangements for their porch. Ours has two pumpkins that aren’t even carved. Pitiful, pale and feeble attempts, cobbled together at the last minute. That’s my signature style.
Sometimes I feel as if that is all I have to offer God. My feeble efforts, hastily created out of what I have on hand, held together with staples. Shouldn’t I offer him excellence? I’m trying to learn how to let my life be a worthy offering, but some days I think I’ll have to settle for being a willing offering. And maybe that’s ok.