This morning you can find me in the corner of my Starbucks, cozy with a Venti and the rain dripping down the windows.
It’s on a big street so when I get sick of writing I watch cars. Or Twitter. They’ve rearranged the seats in here so I can hole up in the corner in a a soft chair AND have an outlet nearby. Perfection.
Or later today you might find me in my living room with my almost four-year-old. We will be watching The Berenstain Bears and playing War with playing cards on the sofa. The dog might be sleeping on the floor next to us.
Maybe you’ll find me washing dishes or tap tap tapping on my laptop getting a blog post ready for the next day. You might find me texting a friend or returning some emails. I might be editing some photos or helping my second grader with her Lighthouse project for school.
I do all these things, but I am not the sum of what I do. Or what I’ve done.
I know I’ve written about this before but I want to clarify something because a few weeks ago a former reader emailed me and said this:
“I’m sick of hearing you talk about your affair. Get over it, will you?”
And then she promptly unsubscribed from my email feed.
That’s fine. I know people do that. I get the email notifications.
But it actually made me think about something. I don’t want to be the girl who camps in the past, who can’t look forward, who has to use her “problems” or her sin to create her identity today. I don’t want to be that girl.
I don’t want to wear my sin like a badge.
Because I’m not proud of it. I am proud of the grace God has bestowed on me, but I am not proud of my sin. I never will be.
But here’s the thing.
It is part of me. It just is.
Call it a consequence or a catalyst but it will always be a part of me. Just like my childhood, my relationship with my sister, the fact that I didn’t go to my grandfather’s funeral when I was 10, going to church 3 times a week growing up, attending a Christian college, my best friend, Ralna, from 4th grade, throwing away the cookie a little boy baked for me when I was six-years-old.
Those are all parts that make up who I am.
So I’m not going to be the girl that camps in the past (because God knows none of us want to listen to Milli Vanilli and wear Doc Martens again) and I will not wear my sin like a I-Can-Weave-A-Basket patch, sewn on my shirt with the careful, even stitches of my mother.
I will however, let the GRACE of God that was given to a woman wretched and sin-ridden continue to cover me, refresh me and renew me. And if I have to recall that time, if I speak of God’s grace to others and use my own life as an example, if I write God’s story in a book, then I will. If God gives me the honor of talking to some of YOU who have doubts in your marriage, who have gone through the storm or who have visited Hell like I have, then I am truly humbled. I welcome it and pray that God continues to give me wisdom as I talk to you.
But I won’t camp there because in reality, even if I’m in the plush corner at Starbucks, I’m living in the middle of Grace.
What do you think? What is the balance between living in the past and living in Grace?
If you want to email me, sarah at sarahmarkley dot com.