I’m not perfect.
I am messy, especially when I cook.
I get frustrated with my children far too often than I’d like to think.
When I take pictures for my blog, I move the mess out of the way.
I fight my flesh everyday. Every. Second.
I fumble over my words in conversation.
I’m totally weird.
There are dirty dishes in my sink.
Sometimes my menu says chicken tacos. Sometimes that turns into rotisserie chicken from the grocery store pared with cheese rolled in a tortilla.
I battle fear almost every day.
But He loves me. And He chose me. And I am clothed in His righteousness. And I am His.
Let us not forget who we are… and who He is.