Actually, I had more than one image in my home, I just didn’t realize it until I looked back over my life, and to my horror, I found myself repenting.
The first image I’d carved out for myself was the persona I’d made for myself, one that only the public got to see. Total professionalism at all times, perfect hair, perfect dress, perfect attitude, perfect even when getting insulted and abused. After stating to a supervisor years ago about something I disapproved coming from him, he retorted, “NO one can be expected to live according to YOUR standards!” Ouch, that smarted. I replied that I didn’t expect anyone to live according to my standards, but he wasn’t even living up to his own. It’s only taken 20 years to realize what that man was telling me. I’d created an image and had raised the bar so high, that if anyone really knew the real me, even I couldn’t live up to that image I’d projected. And there was no man who wanted to take that on. Confidence I didn’t possess, an endless wardrobe I didn’t own (I just knew how to mix and match) and fighting for my life against supervisors who were trying to see how much I’d take.
The second image I’d carved out for myself was my “dream mate.” Problem was it didn’t match what God had for me. I envisioned a 6’6″ tall, professional type, who wore a suit and tie, worshipped the ground I walk on, black hair and blazing blue eyes, loved to go to social parties and symphonies. Well, he’s ten foot tall in my eyes (even though he’s only 5’4″, short and stocky built, ten years older than me, and rarely wears a suit, hates symphonic music and avoids going where there’s many people).
The third image I’d carved out was my home life. Everything has to be just so in my house. Although collected over many years, all belongings have been carefully selected to be graceful and high quality without making people feel like they can’t sit down in my home. And clean? I’ve got people that accuse me of being a clean freak, bordering on obsessive compulsive disorder. But that stems from my upbringing, you could eat off our floors at home when I was growing up.
Maybe this isn’t the image you might have had in mind when you began to read, but they are as real as if I’d taken a piece of wood and carved them. I’m not suggesting that one tears down their ideals, merely suggesting that one be flexible and trust God with His choice of mate, and let people know you are real, and even let the dishes go once in awhile. It was amazing how liberated I was once I submitted this revelation to God, repented of my self-righteous self, and stopped long enough to ask for direction.