Brownies, dog poop, and grace
These days, I am jolting from one crazy big thing to the next. Many of these things are good, wonderful, amazing things. I mean, I flew to Haiti for a week of snuggling babies and expanding my vision. I wrote songs about Larabar and spent a weekend under the palm trees. I bought a car that I adore and pretty much want to write a love song about.
Truly, my life is like a fresh pan of brownies.
With a little bit of dog poop in it.
“Oh, it’s just a tiny bit of dog poop,” you say.
Um. I’m sorry. But even just a little bit of dog poop in the brownies has a way of tainting the whole batch.
There is a lot of insanity going on behind the scenes in my personal life these days, and it’s starting to creep into every corner of my world.
Yesterday in the Denver airport, I had a complete emotional meltdown. It was borderline obnoxious: there, in front of God and TSA and everyone, tears dripping from my chin, struggling with the feeling that I’m not good enough, that I’m not doing enough, that I’m not in control.
“But Annie, you’re not in control,” you say.
I knooowwwwwwww. AND IT’S THE WORSTTTTTTT. [gnashing teeth]
But I’m learning that grace is defined by necessity; it doesn’t mean a thing unless we need it.
And oh my stars, do I ever need it.
I am so thankful for the people in my life who are extending grace to me right now. I know that I don’t deserve it.
But I suppose that’s the point.