Confession: I’ve felt like a pretty huge failure this week.

I’ve been working really hard in my job only for test scores to come back looking nothing how the district wanted them to (fail).

It’s conference week so I saw Greta once in 3 days, and I got so mad at her over not putting on her coat. Stupid thing to dwell on when it was my only 45 minutes I was going to have with her in 3 days (fail).

As a result of conferences, I haven’t touched my kitchen to clean or cook, and laundry… well, that’s just a beast hiding in my bedroom. Joey has been left to fend for himself (and for Greta). — fail. (* Joey did cook, clean, and do laundry, so it wasn’t like it was left un-done— I just put it all on my plate for some reason).

On my way to work on Tuesday after having the blow up with Greta before school, I screamed at God. Demanding to know why all I ever did was fail. The clouds stayed silent.

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My mom came to town yesterday after some of my emotions had lost their intensity. I was still feeling like a failure, but trying not to dwell on my inability to live up to my own expectations (which I like to project onto everyone else). We were chatting after Greta went down and she said she’d been thinking about me and things in my life and she realized there was a difference in the way she responded to me about it all: She could 1- pit me against her and my dad or against me and my family; or 2- she could come alongside me and admit that things are hard.

Isn’t it interesting that when things are feeling really junky that when someone just says, “That must be really hard.” — and says it with compassion, like in a way they wish you weren’t going through it— that it somehow lightens the load?

I have amazing friends who came over Tuesday night and did the same thing. So after my mom said it to me again on Thursday, my burden was feeling much more manageable.

Then this morning, I read Ephesians 3:1-21. It talks about they mystery of Christ. I love a good mystery— like in a book. But I’m not a huge fan of them in my life, or in my spiritual walk. But then, verses 14-21— 

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father from whom every family in heaven and earth is names, that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you to be strengthened with power through His spirit in your inner most being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith that you being rooting and grounded in love may have strength to comprehend with the saints the breadth and length, and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge that you may be filled with the fullness of God. 

So, the difference in this mystery is that I don’t have to solve it by striving. I am named by my Father, and he will strengthen me with power so that the mystery of Christ’s love will not just be revealed to me, but that I will be rooted and grounded by it. 

So my mystery in life of feeling like a failure (my nemesis) perhaps is the way God demonstrates on a deeper level how much he loves me. When I did I become so adverse to love? Compassion- I can do. Love? The more I experience God’s love, the less I want to claim I know how to love. I know kindness and compassion— and those stem from love. But to LOVE like God loves me? A love that brings me out of my dark places… I don’t think we can shower that on to others without Him. 

And just like that my little sister was married. 

I stood in the foyer at the very back of the line craning my neck to see that everything was happening perfectly. The right brother sat the right set of grandparents at the right time. And the pianist played the right song. Everything was on cue. My daughter and niece were behind me being corralled into walking down the aisle as dainty flower girls. Anxiety rushed over me as the best man nudged me that it was our turn. It took all I had not to turn around and look to be sure my sister was okay as she waited for her turn. 

Finally we reached the front and I watched Greta grab her cousin Margo’s hand and walk like two little ladies down the aisle with big smiles. 

And then the door closed.
The drum beat of Beautiful Things pounded in my ears. The chorus began to crescendo; the doors opened; and there stood my sister, her arm in my my dad’s. As they walked down the aisle, she beamed and my dad held back tears. It was glorious.

I felt so proud to be her big sister. The woman who walked down that aisle is no longer the little girl who used to follow me around the house on my heels, or practice her letters over the top of my homework, or crawl in bed with me when she was scared. She is a woman who God has blessed with ambition, beauty, and love for people. A true beautiful “thing” that God created and formed from dust.

 And Michael appreciates, loves, and adores all these things. You could tell, as he stood and waited for his bride to meet him, he too was proud of who he was marrying . The ceremony showed how thankful to God they were for bringing the two of them together.

The reception was a true celebration. Food, dancing, laughing, and new bonds being formed. 

And yet, there was a bittersweet taste to it as well. Jenny and Michael wouldn’t just be headed out for their honeymoon at the end of the reception, they will be living in Dallas, Texas together now. Physically letting her go like that was a lot harder than seeing her get married just hours before. But-as much as my heart longs for them to stay close, I know this time will be a great launch into their new life together. I pray God blesses them as they learn about themselves and one another this first year.