Perfect Days

It's been a while since I sat down like I am now on my virgin-white sofa on a day like today. (I was too cheap to get a color other than white.) It's beautiful outside. I felt full and fed from church, and I thought company would make today the perfect day. When I couldn't find it, true to my pathetic, self-pitying form, I completely forgot about my fullness and happiness and grew angry instead.

The truth is there have been many things that would've made many perfect days. If I just got that grade, if I just had a job, if I just knew what I was doing, if I had someone I felt free to talk to, if I just had ____. When did God stop being enough?

I've known it for a while now, but writing things down and out is always the hardest for me. It makes things concrete, real, and then I have to deal with that ish. I pushed God off the stage and made myself the center of my universe. Clothes, fun for fun's sake, writing, getting published, accomplishment, fame, recognition -- when I am dead and gone, what are these good for? For my children to remember my name? They will die, too. For this world to know of my delusions of glory? Only to feed their ignorance until it's too late. This world is temporal.

God is more than my conception of "more than enough."
God is my God.
God is good.
You are all that is good.