Furbies and Grace

I text embarrassing things at six in the morning because I am not fully awake nor am I coherent enough to realize I am about to embarrass myself. I hit send and there it goes. I make mistakes and I fall on my face.

Okay, so maybe I’ve never actually fell on my face before, but I run into doors an awful lot. Even clearly visible doors. Of course, I have also walked straight into a glass door before. But, who hasn’t?*

I do stupid things. I mess up and make bad decisions. I plan my schedule so busy that I don’t even make time for lunch and then find myself at three in the afternoon coveting someone’s bag of salty peanuts. I say silly things and don’t really know to spell very well. I play Draw Something on my phone, but I am terrible at drawing anything. I read the Wikipedia page to find out the ending of books before I finish them.

Being a religion major, I do a lot of talking about issues from my childhood that have completely messed me up as an adult. But it’s always the real serious stuff. Never do we just talk about things like how uncool I felt when all my friends had Furbies and all I wanted was a Furby, but never got one (even though I was probably already spoiled enough without getting a Furby).

I mean, seriously. Furbies were the coolest. It’s only now, years later and a great deal of hindsight, that I realize that Furbies are actually really creepy. Wikipedia doesn’t even really know what they are. They describe them as resembling a hamster/owl-like creature. Nobody connects hamster and owl with a slash. It’s just not right.**

Of course, next time we do an exercise where we have to fill out all of the root issues that have affected us and continue to affect us, I can’t really put down that I never had a Furby. No one would take that seriously. However, I have plenty that I have to put down—I am an openly messed up person. And that’s why we need grace, for ourselves and for each other.

That’s something that I’m learning: to give myself grace. I am harder on myself than I am on others, by far. But I’m learning that grace is something I need to allow myself to receive.

John 1:16: “Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.”

We receive grace after grace after grace. The Message says we receive gift after gift after gift. We need the gifts of grace. But we need to allow ourselves to open them. To enjoy them. To embrace them. To claim them as our own.

We need to let ourselves sometimes covet peanuts and Furbies, but then recognize our ultimate need-satisfaction is God. But we can’t be too hard on ourselves when we send embarrassing text messages or secretly wish we were still living in the pancake mix times. We can’t keep knocking ourselves down when we fail or we fall. God gives us grace. Grace, the very definition tells us that we don’t deserve it. Yet we receive it freely, if we let ourselves.

*Oh, you haven’t? Well, I don’t want to be friends with you. Yeah, you, the one with all the coordination. If you have never run into a door before, I don’t want to be friends with you because you probably have made some sort of deal with the devil.

**Hencefore (not an actual word, but it’s my blog, so I do what I want), Furbies are probably spawns of Satan. I mean, they have their own language. Wikipedia translates “u-nye-ay-tay-doo?” as “are you hungry?” But we all know it really means, “I want to eat you.” Furby, you can’t fool me.

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