I've struggled lately, gentle readers, with this notion:

I am good enough.

I am a good enough pastor,a good enough wife, a good enough mom, a good enough friend, a good enough sister, a good enough daughter, a good enough Christian, a good enough head of staff, a good enough presbyter, a good enough writer for the RevGalsBlogPals advent devotional book, a good enough preacher, a good enough blogger. (In no particular order.)

I hate it.

I want to be kick-ass.

At everything.

Last week at Session meeting,I had to prostrate myself before the rest of the folks there, apologetic for the things that fell through the cracks this summer while I was busy burying people and consoling the bereaved.

I had a list, which I read. Then I said how sorry I was that I had not achieved everything I had set out to achieve.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then some brave soul said, "That's okay. What you did was good enough."

On Friday mornings I have started to take yoga class at Hooky-Dooky. This I know to be true: yoga kicks my butt. In fact, yoga's little sister kicks my butt. I simply cannot make my body do the things I want it to do. Our teacher has this wonderful philosophy. She reminds us that while we can control our muscles, our bones, tendons and ligaments are beyond our control. I weep during yoga; the same thing happens during reiki and deep tissue massage.

I was lying on my mat, tears streaming down my face last Friday, and the teacher whispers to me, "Why are you crying?" I answer her: "I can't make my leg do what I want it to do." She tells me,"What you are doing is good enough."

I want this to be okay, but it's just not.

I hate it.

I want to be kick-ass.

At everything.