Your cross +

Guns, .... guns are heavy. Too heavy for this little thing. We're talking pistols. Let alone rifles. 

Why on earth am I even trying to hold a gun in the first place? Because I had the brilliant idea of signing up for hunter safety with my sisters. 

I am not interested in hunting or shooting. So why am I there? Exactly... No, I'm there because I want to learn & have learned how to treat a gun and be around a gun safely. 

Our instructors are great. They know what they're doing and they're very patient with students like me.

Earlier this week I had a moment of tears in class. I wish I could laugh it off. Yet instead I kick myself for my imperfections.

I couldn't see the front sight on the gun in the way I was suppose to, My vision wasn't "good enough" or so I told myself. I felt less than everyone else. Hopeless. And that's when I couldn't smile anymore and my eyes filled with tears. Yet my instructor was willing to work with me. I wasn't in a spot at that moment to try again. All I could feel was failure. I didn't want to keep failing by trying. 

Like I said I kick myself for my imperfections. I beat myself up for crying in public. I lash out at myself for not being strong. I get angry and then I become sad for not having the vision I wish I had. I hold my breath for not being like everyone else. 

The bible verse "Be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect" comes to mind. 

Here I am  trying my hardest to be perfect and I come not even close to average. 

I don't understand. 

I guess I am not suppose to understand. After all we weren't created to be perfect. Though longing to be so indeed.

Free me God from choosing to dwell on failure. Free me from verbal abuse. Show me how to surrender to acceptance. Show me how to embrace falling and getting back up again.    

Pride sets subtle snares. Whenever we imagine that we are in control of life--our own or someone else's-- we have fallen prey to the ancient whisper in the Garden: "You shall be like gods." Mortality is the enduring reminder that we become like God not by our own power but by the power of the cross.    

Remind me again and again dear Jesus to pick up my cross. 

You who fell with the heaviest of burdens, the cross on your shoulders, time and time again, chose freely to stand up and keep going. Even to death on that same cross. 

Yes, you have taught me, Help me by example, do the same. 

Help me carry my cross.