Finally, I’m a grown-up.

How do I know this?

My entire adulthood from 18-48, I was never concerned about utility bills. I don’t recall a time when I was responsible for one. It wasn’t my “job” to pay bills. I was just a child in an adult body, not at all worried about the thermostat or the water usage or the back door left wide open or the refrigerator door left open to cool the kitchen. I know. I’m an anomaly.

I can remember Mom getting so ANGRY when we left the back door wide open in the heat of summer. I can remember leaving the water hose running until there were pools of water in the front yard to squish squish squish in bare feet. I can remember secretly “accidentally” bumping up or down the thermostat depending on my hotness or coldness.

However.

I have graduated into adulthood. How? I pay the utility bills now. With my very own paycheck. And I have become my MOTHER.

Can I tell you how incredibly annoying it is to walk into a restroom, ANY restroom ANYwhere, and realize that someone LEFT THE LIGHT ON. How utterly disgusted I am when I’m paying to COOL THE ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD. How horrifying to discover that human beings DO NOT KNOW HOW TO SHUT DE DOH. Even when it’s not my utility bill. Even at work. In a public facility. Oh my goodness people. TAKE SOME RESPONSIBILITY.

I get it now, Mom. Where’s that birthday cake for me. I’ve entered adulthood.

However, the child has not completely vanished. I still filled a trash can last night with food uneaten. Mom’s knack for using sour milk in recipes and skimming mold off of cheese and eating vegetables bendy and wrinkled…not so much on my agenda. Yet.

So, I am grateful that I am now a grown-up that gets it. Partially gets it anyway.

I am grateful that I have a paycheck to pay utility bills.

I am grateful that I have been granted responsibility to pay some of the bills.

I am grateful that there is enough to pay the bills. Unless the neighbors down the street would appreciate a cool afternoon on the patio, that is. Then, MOTHER will come out.

I am grateful for a beautiful sunset to watch on this stretch of highway between Emporia and Hutchinson.

I am grateful for the life of my Uncle Everett. He was a silly happy man who brightened a room always.

Although they are very disgusting, I am grateful for nail files, nail clippers, and floss.

I am grateful for an almost regular weekly Thursday phone call with my daughter.

I am grateful for windflowers in ditches.

I am grateful for Rex Hudler, the Royals commentator who makes me laugh when he says, “Can’t sneak a piece of cheese past a hungry rat!”

I am grateful for conversation in the vehicle on a long drive.

I am grateful for memories of Taco Johns with Mom.

And I am grateful for the reminder that I am who I am, I don’t have to be something I am not, it’s okay to be average, it’s just fine that the floor isn’t clean and the dust is building and there are some weeds in the flower beds and the toilet isn’t sparkling, and what matters is that quality time has been spent in worship, in service, and in time spent. I majored in “impression management” in my past. I am in school now, majoring in “the principles of enough.”

THE PRINCIPLE OF ENOUGH by Jennifer Dukes Lee

Before I tell you a story, you need to know something about me.

I’m a Type-A people-pleaser with perfectionist tendencies. I have struggled with what I call “competency addiction.” That means I have wanted to make a good impression, especially around amazing women like you. But I have often feared that I am approximately one prepositional phrase away from making a fool of myself.

Then one day, it all went off the rails. That day, I lived a perfectionist’s worst nightmare. And it all happened on live radio.

It might have been the best thing that happened to me.

Here’s how it went down:

A widely broadcast radio host wanted to interview me about the book I had written. I would go live at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon. I was nervous, but excited. My perfectionist tendencies went into overdrive, so I was über-prepared. I had my responses ready. I had prayed the right prayers. I practiced out loud. I had even changed into actual clothes rather than wearing what I call my “writing costume” — my Smurfs T-shirt and drawstring pajama pants.

Everything was going just like I had planned until we were about ten minutes into the interview. That’s when the call-waiting beep interrupted the call. A few minutes later, the beeping began again. I apologized to the radio host, fumbled a bit, and then recovered well enough to answer the next question.

But then the doorbell rang. And then it rang again. And again. Then, it rang once more, in an apparent attempt to drive me to the ragged edge of my sanity. The person at my front door would. not. leave. The chimes of Big Ben echoed through the house like a death knell.

In a panic, I dove under my desk with my cordless phone — as if hiding could help. My face was the crimson shade of embarrassment, or perhaps more of a mortified gray. I can’t say for sure, because I was too busy praying that Jesus’ Second Coming would happen sometime before the next commercial break.

Just then, the radio host asked me a question. The silence on her end of the line was my cue to answer. But I had no idea what she had asked.

And I am not exaggerating when I tell you this: THE DOORBELL RANG AGAIN.

“I am so sorry,” my voice squeaked, as I curled tighter into a fetal position, “but can you repeat the question?”

And right then, we both started laughing. We laughed about the doorbell and the call-waiting beep and my acute case of Paralysis of the Voice Box. The irony was not lost on either of us: In that moment, I was being challenged to live out the message I had been asked to bring to her listeners.

My message was this . . .

Cut yourself some slack. Be you. Let go of your hyper-fussiness and live your actual life. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Live by the Principle of Good Enough, instead of rat-racing your way toward the A-plus. Because, let’s face it: Good enough is good enough.

If I was going to preach that message, I had to live it.

I had come to tell those radio listeners what I want to tell you today:

If we could have achieved perfection on our own, we wouldn’t have needed Jesus.

But we really do need Jesus. Oh, yes we do.

I need to know that again today. How about you?

In this age we’re living in, it’s so tempting to carefully edit, flawlessly filter, and meticulously manage your life. But people don’t want your perfection. They want your you-ness. Here’s what draws people to you: authenticity.

You want to know what turns people away? Your try-hard attempts to make it look like you’ve got it all together. Because if you’ve got it all together, then approximately no one can relate to you.

We need the real you. I need the real you. And if I’m going to live in freedom — out from under my desk — I need to be the real me.

If you’re like me, un-gospel thoughts tempt you every day to strive toward self-preservation and impression management. Let’s learn how to spot the danger signs in ourselves. And then, let’s preach the Principle of Good Enough to ourselves.

At the core, our desire for perfection isn’t about wanting to get it right. It’s about wanting to save face. It’s about fear. We’re afraid we’ll look incompetent. We’re afraid people will be repelled by our messiness. But more than our perfection, people want our realness. They want the real us, the messy us, so they know they’re not alone.

And more importantly, that’s who God wants. He wants the person He created, not the fiction we try to manufacture.

After that radio show, I heard from many listeners. I’ll give you one guess what their favorite part was. Yep, the part where it got messy.

That’s when I knew it for sure: Authenticity trumps perfection. Every time.

I am grateful for bad starts to great days. The day can only get better, right?

I am grateful for a kind shoulder rub after a sleepless night.

I am grateful for a few minutes extra to run an errand, so that while I am waiting and waiting and waiting for the clerk to finish her phone call, the few extra minutes allowed me to not be late to work.

I am grateful that forgetting my cell phone does not completely destroy my day.

I am grateful for little things, like a container of grapes purchased by Dad.

Like an adorable picture of my granddaughters taking a nap together after a hard day of kindergarten and Momsitting.

Like a stepdaughter who likes nursing and wound care so that I can step back and just say “ewwww.”

Like trash service.

Like finding the one pair of navy socks that have been lost for weeks.

Like hair that cooperates on a bad start day.

Like Ginger’s “Grace loved to tell the story of unseen things above…” song, playing on my internal jukebox this morning.

Like convenient Ziploc bags.

Like messaging with Nanette and Luke, and a beautiful text message from Erin that can be saved, and knowing other former students still want to connect with their music teacher.

Like a random encounter with sweetest friend Marcia in the aisle of Dollar General.

Like an article in a Co-Op magazine that Sam saved for me that was all about Macey.

http://ellentube.com/videos/0-f5zehx2q/

Like total domination by my favorite baseball team, at least on a first Wednesday of September, and the fun it was to watch the new guys do so well.

Like banana bread and mac & cheese.

Like a dvr so that I can watch America’s Got Talent whenever.

And I am grateful that when the night is rough and the day begins less than perfect, God gives these gifts that just shout, “I love you!”  Like the song He planted on the radio as I drove to work:

One day a professor entered the classroom and asked his students to prepare for a surprise test. They waited anxiously at their desks for the test to begin. The professor handed out the question paper, with the text facing down as usual. Once he handed them all out, he asked his students to turn the page and begin. To everyone’s surprise, there were no questions….just a black dot in the center of the page. The professor seeing the expression on everyone’s face, told them the following:

“I want you to write what you see there.”

The students confused, got started on the inexplicable task.

At the end of the class, the professor took all the answer papers and started reading each one of them aloud in front of all the students. All of them with no exceptions, described the black dot, trying to explain its position in the middle of the sheet, etc. etc. etc. After all had been read, the classroom silent, the professor began to explain:

“I am not going to grade on you this, I just wanted to give you something to think about. No one wrote about the white part of the paper. Everyone focused on the black dot – and the same happens in our lives. We have a white paper to observe and enjoy, but we always focus on the dark spots. Our life is a gift given to us by God, with love and care, and we always have reasons to celebrate – nature renewing itself everyday, our friends around us, the job that provides our livelihood, the miracles we see everyday…….

However we insist on focusing only on the dark spots – the health issues that bother us, the lack of money, the complicated relationship with a family member, the disappointment with a friend etc

The dark spots are very small compared to everything we have in our lives, but they are the ones that pollute our minds.

Take your eyes away from the black spots in your life. Enjoy each one of your blessings, each moment that life gives you.

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I am grateful for my daughter who shares so much about her children with me.

I am grateful for three evenings this week without an agenda in order to get a few things done and enjoy life.

I am grateful for ice cream trucks with circus music.

Which makes me grateful for a Klondike bar on a Wednesday afternoon. It was worth the exorbitant price.

Yes, I spelled HEY, not HAY.

Do you have any idea how many ADULTS have permanently substituted the word “hey” for the word “hi”  or “hello?!” Oh my word just turn on the morning news shows and start counting.

Pet. Peeve.

And you know what’s worse?! When you catch yourself saying your pet peeve.

But, instead of focusing on what irritates, I should, I WILL, focus on what inspires.

I am grateful for moments of silence.

I am grateful that I can walk.

I am grateful for families who choose to foster and adopt.

I am grateful for a few minutes longer to sleep.

I am grateful for God’s blessings of healthy grandchildren.

I am grateful for time spent on the patio eating ice cream and listening to the symphony of cicadas.

I am grateful for dinners with friends.

I am grateful for forgiveness.

I am grateful for ah-HA thoughts:

Compassion means to lay a bridge over to the other without knowing whether he wants to be reached. – Henri J.M. Nouwen

I am grateful for opportunities to serve others.

I am grateful for my brothers and I’m privileged to be their sister.

I am grateful for the sweetest pictures sent to me in text messages:

I am grateful for a monster cinnamon roll from Carriage Crossing and a good friend who made it and gave it to me.

I am grateful for freshly mown grass. Is mown a word? Mowed. That’s it.

I am grateful for my Dad’s stories.

I am grateful for a good book.

I am grateful for the smell of fresh coffee before brew.

I am grateful for family traditions.

I am grateful for clean windows and vehicles.

And I am grateful for the smell of the alfalfa at the elevator in Haven as we drove home from church.