Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Monday, January 26, 2009
On this fine, snowy Monday I need to confess something to you.
I'm a failure.
Some of you may not be surprised. A few of you may be slapping your foreheads and screaming, “She finally got it!” But for those of you who may be shaken by this news let me continue in the vein which I just opened.
I am far too rich in humanity and far too anemic in the divine. As a teacher, as a mother and as a wife I feel like I should be a shiny, undented vessel for the Holy Spirit.
Alas, I am not.
Last week I hit a little emotional wall. Not that I've never done that before -- and I have the bruises and scars to prove it. But this one was a little harder than the rest. I had to face the fact that what a very good friend said to me was true and that I needed to climb out of the tide-pool of self-pity and anger.
Our family has changed. A situation has reared it's ugly head and we are in all-out spiritual and emotional upheaval. And I don't have the luxury of soaking in my feelings and letting them become rooted in the hard-packed ground of bitterness.
I've taken this to God and I feel like I need to say it out loud. Or at least with the click-clack of the keyboard.
I've failed someone I love. A someone that I love with all my heart. As much as I wanted to be the woman she needed me to be I was unable to fill the voids, smooth the wrinkles, ease the hurts and shelter her from life's painful blows. Looking back on my decisions and my choices, I don't feel like I would've have been able to do things much differently, really. The decisions I made in our relationship were ones that were needed. But in knowing this, admitting this, I've still struggled with playing “what if” and “if only” and I had begun to replay the drama over and over again. Like the aching tooth that only stopped throbbing when a tongue was pushed up against it causing a white-hot flash of pain followed by a split-second reprieve before the next throb, I was reliving pages and pages of emotion and hours and hours of time.
Peace was withering and grace along with it. Finally, resentment had taken hold and I was left with little good to offer anyone who crossed my path.
I had to give my mess back to God where it belongs and allow Him to take over again. He is the only one who can bring healing to my relationship. He is the only one who had any business being the void filler, the wrinkle smoother, the hurt easer and the life shelter. I took my eyes off of Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith (and yours) and put them on circumstances and feelings which are as shaky and changing as pounding waves.
So, I'm a dented, unkempt failure in the hands of the Almighty God. I can live with that.