Sometimes, I feel sad.

Or tired. Or angry. Or frustrated, or fed up with myself or my friends or anyone I come across. Most of the time, I do not feel this way. But sometimes I do.

And when I do, I tend to react to my own sadness in a variety of ways.

Some days, I take a shower, flip on all the lights and listen to Ted talks while I rearrange my room.

Other days, I grab a blanket, open a bag of chips, and scroll through the same 15 Facebook posts for 45 minutes, until time calls me somewhere else.

Sometimes I drop everything and go for a run.

Sometimes I take a nap instead.

On occasion, I'll leave the place where I am and find a room full of people that I care about, and who care about me.

Sometimes I make a mental list of everything that is a source of stress, and then I find a place to be alone and feel sorry for myself.

I, like so many others, value consistency. There's a part of me that wants to eliminate the list I just gave you and be able to just react to challenges and bad moods the same way, every time. I look at the list and I see a variety of positives and negatives. I see behaviors that are extroverted and introverted. I see behaviors that seek to separate and shut down, and I see behaviors that seek to connect and grow. I see evidence of my imperfection, and that's frustrating to me.

There is so much that I have to do: I have to keep up with classes, I have to take care of friendships, I have to work and work out, and be socially aware of situations that are happening around me. I need to make time for rest, and make time for stress, and work through problems in an efficient way -- none of that happens when I'm sad and choose to "take a nap instead." And that's frustrating to me, because imperfection is frustrating to me.

I want to be successful in keeping up with everything going on in my life, and any time I don't keep up with it, I chalk it up as a failure and I move on. I am haunted by imperfection, and my thinking is flawed when I romanticize that feeling and think that I'm the only one. I make too many mistakes, when all I really want at the end of each day is to be perfect. I want to eliminate struggle and simply be successful. And I ask: How is someone who is chronically imperfect supposed to wake up every morning and strive for perfection?

But Josemaria Escriva shoots that down when he says, "The struggle is the sign of holiness."

What? How does that make sense? He continues:

"A saint is a sinner that keeps trying."

This is the first time it has ever occurred to me that maybe holiness is not synonymous with perfection. How incredible is that? Holiness is not synonymous with perfection. Holiness is humility and dependence and wonder - not perfection.

In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus tell us: "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (2:17)

In other words, if I am perfect, Jesus would not have much use for me at all. I am called to be used by him, and the best way for him to use me is to work through me. He can only fill in the cracks and holes in my life if there are cracks and holes to be filled.

In 2 Corinthians, we are told about Paul and the role that visions and revelations played in his life. To "keep [him] from being too elated by the abundance, of revelations, a thorn was given [him] in the flesh" (7). He begged the Lord, three times, to take the thorn away. But the Lord responded: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (9).

Paul desired the elimination of his weakness, and he went so far as to beg the Lord to take it away. But the Lord said, "No - in your weakness is your value."

Paul continues: "I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong." (9-10).

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with naps, and Facebook binges, and chips and pity parties. Not because these things are OK, but because they are not. Because they make me weak. They make me depend on the one who is greater than I am.

This is the greatest irony I have ever known: that in order to become greater, I must become less. That my glory is found in weakness, and that my purpose is found in letting God do the work. It is one of the strangest feelings to realize that I am wired to wake up every morning and give my whole heart to pursuing something I will never, ever be able to attain.

I am wired to attempt, without ceasing, to hold on to something that is eternally out of my reach.

I am wired to try again, over, and over and over again.

Sometimes, I feel sad. There are a million unacceptable responses, attitudes, and actions to that sadness. I know that as long as I'm here on earth, I will never be able to escape these unacceptable responses, attitudes, and actions. But I still need to try.

"The struggle is the sign of holiness. A saint is a sinner who keeps trying."

Imperfection is necessary to my salvation, so I continue to reach for something that I will never be able to obtain on my own.