Getting My Guard Up, part 2

For the record, I am not a perfectionist.  I am not a control freak.  If I wasn't a Christian I probably would be both of those, but because of the Grace of God I am not.  

I do, however, like to do my very best when it counts.  For instance, keeping my house sparkling and spotless is not someplace it counts, although I do make sure my house is functional and clean-enough-to-not-encourage-the-spread-of-disease.  When writing for myself (i.e. this blog) I don't edit as judiciously as I do projects that involve other people.  I'm going with the stream of consciousness thing here. (And you wondered why I don't always make much sense.  Welcome to the chaos that is Mommy Brain.)

It's been two weeks since I posted about guarding my heart.  I am failing.  Sometimes I'm failing miserably and sometimes I do fairly well, but for all the newly-acquired insight I have obtained on the subject, the actual implementation is elusive. 

The Debbie Translation:  I need "a little less talk, a lot more action."  

To guard my heart I have to start with guarding my mind. 

WAY.  EASIER.  SAID.  THAN.  DONE.

Being as my brain is always going 976 mph, it's not easy to keep up.  I let my mind wander for a split second, my imagination ignites and I'm right back to where I started.  My current favorite facebook status, "Don't believe everything you think. It's bound to create problems that don't even exist," helps a lot, but it's still doesn't cover all the bases.

I'm totally understanding Paul here when he talks in Romans 7 about the interior war, the spiritual parts within us versus the earthly and sinful parts.  If Paul struggled with that, I'm going to as well, until death do I depart. 

I don't want to keep fighting the same battle day after day after day.  (No wonder cooking and cleaning are not among my favorite things.)  I want to have my heart well-protected yesterday. Then I can move on to other things.

*sigh*  It ain't happenin'.

Sometimes I am the Warrior Princess, slaying the dragons to protect myself and my family.  Other times I am the little girl hiding in the corner, discouraged and defeated.

All the time I am too hard on myself.  Doing my best does not mean I will always get it right (although obviously somewhere deep inside I think it should).  

I remind myself, here and now, that transformation takes time.  It's not a quick fix or instantaneous change. I can't undo forty years of wounds and negative patterns in two weeks.  And, although God can do that in me, He's choosing to heal and transform me a little bit at a time.

He continues to extend Grace and Mercy to me.  I need to extend some to myself.