I’ve been struggling with the concept that God gives us grace to fail. You see, I’m a perfectionist (which the devil has often used against me).

Definition of a perfectionist: Someone who holds themselves to high, perfect standards, and then beats themselves over the head when they can’t (or don’t), meet that self-imposed requirement.

Today, I taught dance class to a five-year-old and her three-year-old sister. The elder girl is a perfectionist. It’s like looking in a mirror, honestly. Her face falls when she doesn’t “do it right.” And when she sees an eight-year-old do a dance she doesn’t know, she thinks I expect her to be able to dance it (boy, is God teaching me a lot about myself).

The thing is, I don’t expect any form of perfection from her. I know her capabilities (she has a real talent. I knew that from our first dance class, and it’s been a joy to teach her), and I encourage her to become a beautiful dancer. But I’m never disappointment if she doesn’t “get it right.” I’m just so proud of her that she’s trying so hard.

She and her sister are such a joy to me. I always look forward to teaching them.

But, that perfectionism… When she doesn’t do the dance movement just right, I don’t beat her up verbally (which is what I used to do to myself for years, until God showed me the verse: “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and I realized that I needed to love myself). When my dancer messes up, I just help her, and show her what I want (“turn out that foot a little more,” “move your heel,” “push your knee back,” “eyes up,” etc.).

She’s only five. She’s still a little one. She’s still learning.

God loves me so much. Each and every day, He’s been showing me that more and more (and God knows, I need it. I’ve had a rough life these past few years. Been a tough road). Now I know how He sees me and feels about me.

And that dance class? That was my God-kiss for the day.

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