Tracking in Dirt

I used to think that I needed to give myself the grace to be young
But I'm slowly realizing that I need to give myself the grace to be human
I am allowed to have scraped knees
from falling in love with the ways of this world
And chapped lips from speaking words of disdain
I do not serve a God of bandaids and lip balm
but a God of 2nd and 5th and 27th chances

I've always been my own worst critic
and in some ways that's kept me humble
But it also has become an infinite checklist of errors
etched into handheld mirrors
Only seeing imperfection where my Creator stitched creation into my skin
Wonderfully and fearfully made
I think I've always feared letting people down
Pretending that the spaces between my fingers were nets
made to catch people's expectations
He's got the whole world in His hands
But I certainly do not

You wouldn't think that walking on eggshells is painful
or plucking off flower petals is dangerous
or filling hourglasses with sand is mildly terrifying
But it is
I've spent far too long wishing away sand
I am learning to wait, to settle into joy
Because all I've ever been shown of forever are promises like windows
Seeming so clear but suddenly shattered by baseballs and a change of heart

And yet You tell me that I am Yours forever
A child of wishing well love
Washed clean by buckets and buckets of grace
I am allowed to be caged in by my own misconceptions
To track in dirt from the places I've walked home from
To hide under my covers until my cheeks are red and my heart is heavy
You did not come to cover up my stories
You came to save all the almosts and should-have-beens
I am allowed to always be running after an answer, an alleluia, an Amen