Today I’m launching a new #SpiritualMisfit series here on the blog. Every Friday I’ll welcome a writer to consider the topic “I am a Spiritual Misfit, I am His Beloved Misfit.” I first met today’s guest writer, Dawn González, in person several years ago at the first Christian conference I’d ever attended, Deeper Still. To say I was a duck out of water that weekend would be an understatement, but I still remember how gracious and authentic Dawn was – she was (is!) the real deal. In this piece Dawn tackles feeling less-than and insecure and acknowledges the fact that God makes up for what we lack…IF we let him. Welcome, Dawn!
I pull into the garage and my dog and daughter meet me three steps into the kitchen. “Shhh,” she whispers. “Adrian’s boss is here recording.”
I hear his warm, rich tenor penetrate my disheveled house, and I melt from the beauty of the sound and from the messiness of my house.
I have a valid reason not to get further into the house than the kitchen. I don’t have to face him if I don’t want to, you know, because dinner has to be cooked and the morning dishes and after school snack leftovers await me in the sink and on every counter.
The kitchen alone is appalling.
Instead, I swallow my embarrassment and step into the den, where there are four loads of laundry. Neatly folded, mind you, but splayed unabashed across the love seat and the coffee table nonetheless. Bras, dingy socks, and stringy, eight-year-old towels, most of the cotton fibers long gone.
Please, Lord, let him have entered through the front door.
I round the corner to the piano room and see Eric standing in the corner as if in timeout, singing unreserved into the microphone. Adrian is seated at the desk manning the recording software. I surmise the room. Reagan’s shoes, kicked off, lie haphazardly where they landed in the middle of the floor. A blanket she was reading under two nights ago remained in a heap in the corner. I spy two dirty glasses with a puddle of forgotten milk in the bottom.
Image courtesy of Dawn Gonzalez
Image courtesy of Dawn Gonzalez
I cringe on the inside, ruing the day my children were born. On the outside, I smile at the scene like a Stepford wife for the benefit of Eric, my son’s manager. Inside I’m adding these infractions to my ever-present, ever-growing litany of grievances against my kids.
In the heat of the moment (think blood boiling), I don’t realize that it’s happening again. I am fracturing into two people, diverging into two selves: the one on the outside who dutifully bends her behavior into that which is expected and self-preserving, and the other inside my head that rails at my family’s bad habits and the impossibility of really being that person I portray on the outside.
It’s Thursday — four, maybe five, full days since our last real effort at housekeeping. What was Adrian thinking?! The place is a wreck, evidence of living fast and hard, with all the trappings of a complicated, American lifestyle complete with lots of stuff, mostly not put away.
When Eric finishes singing, I offer him my pinched, plastic smile. I am humiliated. My home betrays me. It says I was not prepared for company and so much more.
What I should have done was genuinely mean it when I said, “Welcome, Eric.” Because I know God makes up what I lack if I let him. If I’m not held captive by what others think. If I’m not dividing myself into an acceptable outer layer that conceals the ugly truth beneath: that I’m not perfect.
God perfects us, and we are to rest confidently in that always, even when breakfast is still in the sink and people catch us at our worst. Maybe especially then.
Dawn González is a writer, bible teacher, speaker, and pastor’s wife. She co-founded Columbia World Outreach Church in Columbia, South Carolina with her husband Mike. She contributes to various magazines and websites with features online at TheHighCalling.org, incourage.me and LacedWithGrace.com. Connect with Dawn on her blog, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram where you can find more of her imperfect days on display.
Yes! Right on. . .
Michelle, it’s an honor to be the first in your #SpiritualMisfit blog series. Your book is going to make people brave to work out their faith in fear and trembling and not give up when they find it’s not always easy or perfect. Faith, like life, is messy. Praise God he loves us anyway. We are indeed his beloved misfits, and it’s a joy to walk beside you in this.
I am honored and delighted to feature you and your writing here today, Dawn – and I’m especially glad you are the first to post in this series because I love how we have a little bit of personal history together. Thank you for your story and for your encouragement. Love you!
“God makes up what I lack if I let him.”
Oh, my land. You’re describing my house. But you forgot the hanging cobwebs and the dust I see creeping over the edge of the fan blades–that hang over the kitchen table. Which doesn’t much matter because we never sit there anyway. At least Eric was a guy. I always trust guys don’t notice. 😉
HA! Good point, Sandra – guys never notice! And truthfully, I never notice anyone else’s mess – only my own!
I have SO been there, and SO done that. Being genuine is such a struggle when the very act betrays our plastic image. How often I have allowed what others think to become more important than what He thinks…Bravo Michelle for having this guest, and thank you Dawn for being so transparent.
Thank you, kd. Now if I could only learn how to recognize it BEFORE I splinter off, and find the courage to be okay with myself, the true me, right where I am and where God knows I am in life. I’ve gotten pretty good at detecting when it happens afterward, when I can’t go back. Maybe that’s a good starting point though, being aware of my tendency to edit myself like that.
A memory came to mind after reading this. One day when my son was in high school he brought his girlfriend home without telling me . There were lunch plates on the coffee table still waiting to be picked up and fur all over the place due to our house cats and me not vacuuming for a week , etc. etc. I wanted to yell at my son! Lol. Just as I was about to apologize for my messy house (I was really freaked out) both of them ever so casually took off their shoes and made themselves at home. The body language told me everything – – that they did not care or really notice anything to be wrong. My son was just happy to bring her over and she was happy to be visiting our house. It was a huge lesson for me. 🙂
This is a sweet and perfect story, Suzanne – thanks so much for sharing it here!
Dawn,
I’m so excited for you to guest post for Michelle. She was correct in every word she used to describe you above. You are the real deal and I’m blessed to call you friend. Thank you for your authenticity. We all need to remove our masks and be women who allow God to perfect our messes.
Thank you, Cindy. God perfects us in our messes. Yes. He always does. I’m so glad of that.
We’ve all seen messy houses before — because we’ve all lived in them. I enjoy visiting friends who don’t go to great lengths to clean up when I come over, who have piles of stuff here and there and cobwebs in the corners. I feel at home there; I feel like I’m family instead of company. And for a single person whose family is many miles away, that is a cherished feeling.
“Maybe especially then.” Yes. Thanks for letting us see this (and see ourselves in it).
Laura, at the time, I really couldn’t find an upside, and your perspective is definitely an upside. Thanks for sharing it.
Visiting a friend (the 2nd most disorganized person I know) I was humbled when a someone stoped by unexpectedly. She gracefully swept up the piles from part of the couch, sat next to them and FULLY PRESENT looked them straight in the eyes and asked “how ARE you?”.
I was blown away. I wouldn’t have been able to get past apologising for the lack of order in my house. This angel-friend went straight for the heart of the matter.
So forgiving ourselves and loving others: it’s a tall order and we will get sidetracked. Baby steps!
I’m always the most comfortable in a home that whispers busy! Because that’s what mine does. I smiled at your piles of folded laundry (I fold mine on the stairs and sort it into piles for different bodies, it’s their responsibility to take the pile upstairs and put it away. Do you know my stairs always have piles of laundry ascending the steps?), made me feel cozy :). Why, oh why do we measure our worth by the cleanliness of our homes? I live with three boys (hubs included) and their measuring stick of clean is sooo different than mine. I could always be frustrated if I let myself. Thanks for your openness here, Dawn. You are a beloved–that’s for sure, but I don’t think this story makes you a misfit!
I love laundry….piled all over the floors waiting their turn in the washer….it reminds me of the fullness of life. bare threads and all…..
I LOVED this!! Thank you, Dawn, for sharing your heart, bravely and honestly. For being real.
Thank you, Dawn (and Michelle, for hosting). I think this is an area of struggle for so many of us. Most of the time, I concentrate on beating back the chaos in my house, never really conquering (or attempting to conquer it). I know my standards fall far short of others’, and sometimes it bothers me. But I also know that–whenever I push myself to make things “just so,” I’m enveloped by frustration or worse (like raging anger). Other people so it, I know, but I cannot be a nice mommy and, simultaneously, a good housekeeper. I just can’t.