I’m not ironing the green potholder today, even though it needs it desperately. The one that had to be washed because it had goops of beef enchilada and chicken pot pie stuck on it.

And it had that smell. You know, that gross potholder smell? Or does that only happen at my house? What is that smell anyway?

The green potholder that is supposed to be shaped like a mitten, but got all wadded up in the washing machine and the dryer so that now it looks more like a bumpy blob. So wadded up that no one in their right mind would consider using it the way it looks now. Isn’t its ability to perform lessened somehow because it’s misshapen and at least a third of its former size?

The green potholder that now begs to be ironed.

Surely it must be rid of all the wrinkles, so it’ll fit neatly in the skinny drawer beside the stove, along with all the other pot holders and those long black utensils.

It would only take a minute.

I had already turned on the iron. Of course, I wasn’t just going to iron one green potholder. That would be silly! I also had four pillowcases to starch and iron.

But something stopped me. I’m pretty sure it was God, and the words of Craig Groeschel from Catalyst yesterday. Craig talked about the dark side and when he mentioned that his battle was with perfectionism, I could relate.

However, for me it looks different. I’m not an overachiever, driven to perform at all costs. If you know me at all, you know that’s not me. (She says with a sense of Pharisaical pride: “I’m glad I’m not like that!”)

No, the kind of perfectionism I’ve battled my whole life was born from these painful words,

“You ain’t worth a damn.”

I probably wasn’t more than 10 when my father, a carpenter by trade, disabled from Emphysema that gripped his lungs and held his breath, needed some help with a project.

He was doing something on the carport with wood and a pair of wooden saw horses. I was supposed to hold the thing (whatever it was, now forgotten) steady while he maneuvered it to accomplish his purpose. I didn’t want to be there in the first place. I had my own agenda, also now forgotten.

At some point, I failed in my ability to hold the thing steady, which prevented him in his ability to do whatever it was he was trying to do.

And the words left his mouth, not harshly nor loudly. Instead, they were matter of fact, and filled with disappointment.

“You ain’t worth a damn.”

At that point, I was released from my duty. On the surface this was a good thing because, remember, I didn’t want to be there in the first place.

But I can’t tell you the number of times those words have come back to haunt me. In some ways, they’ve shaped my behavior. If I can’t do it perfectly, I won’t do it at all.

I’m far better than I was even five years ago, but today, those words, and the thought of the dark side, make their way onto the pages of my red journal.

“God, I feel so overwhelmed. Not just this morning, but in general. Time is ticking away and I feel like I’m not accomplishing all that much. The parable of the talents convicts me, but I’m somehow paralyzed by my fears – fear of failure, fear of being imperfect, fear of doing it wrong. God, God! GOD!”

And then these words, “Cheryl, just rest in my love. Above all else this morning, rest in my love. Let me shower you with my undeserved, unearned, everlasting love.”

Zephaniah 1:7 Be silent in the Presence of the Lord God; for the day of the LORD is at hand, for the LORD has prepared a sacrifice; He has invited His guests.

So I pondered being in the Presence of the Lord. And I pondered his sacrifice, Jesus. I pictured a beautiful banquet table with fine linens and china. Suddenly, the banquet table became a table for two with a bud vase and a red rose in the center.

And this:

My prayer
Father, today, I leave the misshapen potholder in the laundry room and turn off the iron. Help me understand that I don’t have to worry with all my wrinkles and imperfections to be used by You. Let me allow You to be the One who does the ironing, the reshaping and the fitting. Put me in the places where You can use me. For Your glory. And let me rest in Your love. Sweep me away. In the name of Jesus, the Sacrifice who made it all possible. Amen.