Back to the little metaphor God has been using so aptly to instruct me: within the last week or so (and many times before that in life, as well) I've spent some time around a parent who doesn't bring the children into obedience. The kids are in charge, running rampant, disrespectful, loud, disruptive, and just generally no fun.
The parent, when approached about this, laments how terrible the kids are. How they don't listen. How they don't obey. How their smart mouths are so offensive. How badly they behave.
And I listen to the parent, and think: whose fault do you think that is? Who always lets them do what they want? Who never tells them no? (*Edit* s/b "never enforces a no.") Who never models nor teaches respectful behavior? Who would rather rest and pretend not to notice what they are doing, rather than confronting and dealing with it? Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is that you blame the kids for this problem?
It's so easy to see, when it's not me...ya know?
So. This morning, I wrote about how my body is being a spoiled rotten brat.
I guess it's time for me to stop blaming my body for the way it acts, and start taking responsibility for training it to do the right thing.
Usually I hate mirrors for the shape they show me. Tonight, what the mirror shows me is somebody who's been shifting the blame.
Gotta knock that crap off.
Perhaps that means today's lesson from God to Karen is: part of loving my body is taking appropriate responsibility for its care and training, and accountability for the lack thereof.
I wish I came off looking a little better, in this story...
O praise the Lord, for He is good, and His mercy endures forever.