The Real Question . . .

Failure poses some real dangers to us: bitterness, unforgiveness, despair.
Sometimes in our failure we shift responsibility, and blame others. Over time I've learned how easy it is to do that: I don't want to acknowledge my own part in failure! It's much easier to look around and rationalize that “I would have done better if only . . . “ The “if only” part usually involves someone else and what I think they should have done for me.
It works like this: “I would have kept the house clean if only the kids had put away their toys when I asked them to.” Or “I wouldn't have spent that money if only my husband had remembered my birthday.”
Pretty slick, right? I've established my own good intentions or modest expectations, and avoided blame in one quick statement.
But practiced too often, this technique leads to bitterness, because when the failure to keep the house clean or the budget balanced becomes overwhelming, or when the other person (the one I'm blaming) doesn't shape up or treat me the way I think they should, I begin to feel misused. I wonder why “they” don't want to help me. I observe that they've never helped me much. Then, like Darth Vader, I decide they have “failed me for the last time.”
If I think about it too much then I can have a hard time forgiving the people I'm blaming. After all, isn't it their fault I'm suffering? Why should they get off scott free?
Or, if I'm feeling somewhat charitable toward them, I'll feel sorry for my own self, and slip into despair. Things will never change! and I'll just have to live with whatever it is . . .
Bitterness, unforgiveness, despair – what a nasty brew! There are other, better ways to deal with failure, I think.
I can start by acknowledging my own part, my responsibility for failure, and dealing with it. I can forgive others, and my own self, for failure. I can trust God to redeem my failures.
Each of those things is essential if I want to live a life of hope, if I want to accomplish the things God has set before me. Real accomplishment requires maturity, the maturity that recognizes difficulties and doesn't minimize them; maturity that recognizes failures will happen but can be redeemed; maturity that holds on to the hope that God is still working in me to accomplish His purposes.
It's all too easy to focus on our failures and fail to see God working in them.
When I look at my children, sometimes instead of seeing the wonderful people they've grown to be, I see my failures; they are painful. I wish I'd done better.
But mostly, and more importantly, I also see how God has worked in our lives. God has been faithful, and despite my failures, they've grown into delightful, faithful people. They have their own struggles and failures, but God is working in them, through them.
Maybe the real question we should be asking ourselves isn't “what have I accomplished today?” but “what is God accomplishing in and through me today?”
We just need eyes to see!

Failure and Accomplishment

And then, there's failure.
One way or another, I've failed each of my kids in different ways. It certainly was not my intention to fail them, but I did. Maybe I wasn't there to prevent an accident, or to deal with one when it happened.
Maybe I didn't pay enough attention, or believe that what my child said was true, when really it was. Maybe I just didn't understand what someone needed, and they went without.
I've learned I can try my best and still fail for reasons I may not have control over or even understand, which is not a good feeling at all.
I don't like to fail in general, but failing my kids is a special kind of agony.
The hospital where our first daughter was born had a long hallway on the maternity floor, with windows that looked out over a river valley. The morning we were getting ready to leave the hospital, I walked slowly down that hall and stopped to look out one of those windows. It was a May morning, beautiful, full of the promise of spring – you could see the trees beginning to wear green, and redbuds were in bloom.
As I looked out the window I prayed, asking God to help me be the best mom I could possibly be. I asked for patience and kindness, wisdom and strength. I asked to be loving and good. I asked for all the qualities I could think of that would help me give my daughter a good life.
What I wanted, really, was to be the kind of mom who filled out that image I had in my head, the one from church and Sunday School, the one that talked about “abundant life.”
What I didn't realize was that failure would be part of God's answer to my prayer. I tried hard to be all the things I asked God to help me be, and I failed in pretty short order.
In my failure I began to realize that no matter how hard I tried, I didn't have it in me. What I needed to do was let God do the shaping so I would conform to His image. He had to fill me up with those qualities. My own personal supply of them was too short!
Would I have figured that out without failing? Probably not. I have a lot of reasons and explanations for my failures, but they don't do much for making me better.
There is nothing like falling short where my kids are concerned to get my attention, and nothing like paying attention to God's lessons for being conformed to the image of Jesus for real change and accomplishment.

Failures

Failure is a funny thing. A lot of times we blame ourselves when things go wrong, and often rightfully so.
This time, though, it really isn't my fault – it's the hard drive on my laptop.
It's been, if not dead, then sick.
That explains the lack of posts this month.
Our computer guru Jason has a new hard drive to install sometime in the next few days, and then we should be back on a regular basis.
Til then, I'm thinking about failure – mine, and not mine.