A loud pounding woke us. My husband and I had returned home in the wee hours from a weeklong mission trip, so we’d slept in a little that morning. Well, until the pounding began.
Paul went downstairs to see who was knocking on the door. I heard the front door open and then Paul walked back to the bottom of the stairs and quietly called, “Honey, come here. You’ve got to see this.”
When I walked into our foyer and could see the front door, I burst into laughter. A full-grown turkey was on our porch. It could see its reflection in the storm door and was attacking it.
A few weeks later, we observed another turkey pecking on the chrome bumper of my husband’s truck. Again, attacking its reflection.
We laugh at how silly those turkeys are, but don’t we do the same thing to ourselves? I was reminded of that this week while going through some boxes in our storage room. As I looked at pictures of me from 15-20 years ago, I found myself wishing I could look young and thinner like that again. (And ironically, at the time those pictures were taken, I thought I looked too heavy!)
I sat there and muttered, “Wow, I’ve really gone downhill fast.” Yes, beating myself up again, just like those turkeys.
Then it occurred to me, God is a God of perfection, and He doesn’t make junk. He looks at me through a lens of grace, and He sees the beauty of His creation. I am valuable to Him. I am loved.
So I’m going to stop beating myself up like those silly turkeys. If the God looks at me and thinks I’m something special—so special that He gave His life for me—who am I to argue?