If you know me IRL, you'd probably nod your head in agreement that I'm not the type of person to beat myself up about things I've done wrong. It's just not part of my personality to think of myself as a "bad person," and it took a long time (and a pretty serious downwardly-spiraling life) for me to realize I couldn't just do my thang in life and be okay.
And most of the time, I don't even mind that part of my personality - I married someone who's definitely the opposite in this area, and man, it just seems tiring to be wondering all the time if you're violating your inner conscience. I tend to think, look, if I do, I'm sure it'll tell me, amiright?
Which is why motherhood kind of threw me for a loop. Yesterday morning, Steve, one of our pastors, spoke on repentance. One point he highlighted was on godly sorrow versus worldly sorrow, and the Holy Spirit pretty much opened my chest and strung out the last two years before me, a huge pile of worldly sorrow accumulating mass every day.
I have been beaten down my worldly sorrow for my inability to be the parent I want to be for Ezra. I have been paralyzed by it, drowned in it. I have not repented nearly often enough for my lack of reliance on the Holy Spirit to make me more like Jesus. This worldly sorrow has robbed me of so much hope that God is able to do more than I can even hope for in my and my son's lives. Ugh, I'm so done with it.
Epilogue: It's kind of nice, isn't it? Eight years after my first real experience with repentance, I'm still plumbing the depths of God's grace and sufficiency and our relationship. I hope it never ends, exploring His love and letting Him in. He is so, so good to me.