I thought I had to chisel myself out of stone,

Forever carving away the flaws and ugly bits.

Forever unfinished,

never qualified,

always unworthy.

I marveled and judged those who, despite being incomplete,

Ran after their heart’s desires and destiny.

How arrogant?

How impatient?

How unprepared, they were.

Can’t they see?

Don’t they know?

Their inevitable folly?

But, not me.

I won’t make mistakes,

As soon as I finish working on me.

But…that day ain’t never coming,

When I can announce to the world my perfection.

What then, do I do, with me?

What is true, and what do I believe?

Enter the Ancient One.

His grace so great, so without end,

He gives it away as sun and rain,

To nourish and guide each of us.

To the impatient, there is grace.

To the immature, there is grace.

To the arrogant, there is grace.

To the addict and obese, there is grace.

To the slow-puzzler and self-hater, grace and more grace.

To the over-thinker, hand-wringer,

To the lonely and abused,

To the bully and bullied,

To the atheist and racist,

To the stuck-in-a-rut,

To the rich and poor,

To the city slick and country hick,

To the perfectionist…

The afraid…

The angry and confused,

to those who feel forgotten,

And wrongly accused.

Grace.

Unending grace.

Unmerited, eternal grace.

It’s favor on our lives,

From a Father to His kin.

I am not my mistakes or sins that I’m in.

I suppose I’ll look foolish and impatient,

From those outside judging in,

I don’t care.

I love myself.

And, I’ve got a purpose to start living.