Assulting that Pride

I'm exceedingly mindful of my faults.
I once read a book wherein the main character lamented that her faults were so obvious to herself, that she did not need to have them pointed out by others. When they were, she'd go home and cry. I totally get that.
Living alone is a great way to live in denial. My kids are aware of my faults, of course, but they can't do much about them, and they don't really confront me very often.
Falling in love, though, is a fantastic way to face all the uglies within.
This is a good man, my Tim. I am horrified to find that I have so much in the way of flaws to offer him. In order to give him more and more of me, I find that I can't just give him what's been prettied up and made presentable. It's all mixed up with those parts that are bad. So, I offer to this man I dearly love, a gift that is ridiculous and absurd.
It's rather like crushed dandelions in the grubby hand of a child, though somewhat less endearing.
We go to God that way, too. Here is the Perfect Creator of all, and He wants to have all of you and me. So I give Him....what? My attendance at church? Some pretty prayers? Maybe. Mostly, I give Him my broken heart, and the desire to be what I am not. It's a rather small offering to One Who Loves me so well.
I am seeing this with Tim. In truth, I am learning quite a few things about Who God is, and how He loves me, from my relationship with this man. Tim is so generous, and so very good. He wants more of me, and I set out to give it, only to find that I'm handing him something shoddy. He always accepts it like I do those grubby dandelions, as though it's a pot of gold.
God does that, too. He doesn't require us to be anything but what we are. His main desire is the interaction that sincere relationship is. He wants to commune with you and me, even just as we are.
It's easier when it's God, though, because I know that I can't hurt him the way I can hurt flesh-and-blood. My faults are a danger to Tim, and to his children and mine. They are reality, though, and a large part of what I have to give. That breaks my heart.
Yet, I see so clearly that this is an important part of life. I have been blissfully able to ignore the effects of such upon others, because no one has been close enough. Even my best friends can get some distance, when they need to. They can back away, and I can ignore, and we all live happily.
But no more.
God knows I want to be better. So does Tim, I think. I wish I had more beauty to give; more that is worthy of this love.