resting in mediocrity

I decided last week that for Miss Gloriana's birthday party, I wanted to make her a REAL cake - with fondant and everything. I had grand visions of smooth purple and pink shapes and women standing around it with their mouths agape. I even tempered the situation with reality and pictured Miss Thang sticking one ginormo fist into the cake, ruining it and bringing it to completion, all in one fell swoop.

On the day of the party, with my sweet mama there to help, the cakes baked and waiting, the fondant colors made and prepared - my mediocrity reared it's normal little head. I couldn't get even one piece of fondant to be thin and big enough (without breaking) to cover even the small layer of cake. Darn, I thought this might happen. Did I foresee the fondant being hard to work with? Sure, but more than that I feared that yet another attempt to rise above being 'a jack of all trades and a master of none' would leave my girl with a silly looking cake and my clothes covered in sticky, sugary paste.

We deemed the cake whimsical and our friends were beyond gracious. In general, I was surprisingly pleased with the taste of the cake and I think my girl loved it just fine. But it certainly got me thinking.

There was a time in my life when I really believed that if I tried hard enough, it would be possibly to be the most something. The most stylish, the most smart, the most successful, the most creative, the most Christlike, or the most loving wife & mother. At every new place in life, I quickly surmised that the goal to be the most was unrealistic and sinful - at best. It made me compare myself all too often, which we women know is basically the root of all evil for us, and more than that - it made me want to make other women feel bad. That sounds horrible and disgusting, but isn't it true? If we want to be recognized as the best of something, we are wanting other people to feel inferior, to feel less than.

Now, I'm not nearly totally free from this issue and I even had to confess to my mom the other night that when I've been pregnant for three years and have the energy level of a half-dead slug and thus CANNOT nearly begin to strive to be the prettiest or the most useful, I tend to just deflect my desire to be the most onto my children. I think, "well they're not the most _______, but atleast they're ______". You can go ahead and call me disgusting. As a mother, as a woman of God, I believe Christ died so that I can be enough in Him alone and when I can't rest in that, I project my sin on to my helpless babes. If they don't hear and see from me that they are amazing and mind blowing in the blood of Jesus alone, it will be such a hard road for them. This isn't the kind of sin you confess to yourself and ponder for a while - you have to stop that thought process in it's tracks and run from thinking such evil things about yourself or your family.

So my cake and my confession has me thinking a lot today. Praying a lot today. There is always a time to work hard, to be our best in Jesus' name, and to exhaust ourselves for His purpose. But, for me, in this moment - I have to rest in my mediocrity. Not only can I drop out of the race for the trophy of the most, but I can stop looking beside me to see where I even line up in the running. I was the worst - who met a Savior - and is now enough.