The Stewardship of Slack

Spent a lot of today trying to work out yesterday's snafu.  It's been a long, worrisome day, and things were only partially dealt with.  All in all, it went a little better than I thought it would, though.  I'm so grateful to God (and some others in particular) for the help I've received so far.  I'm still shaky, but hoping my stomach and brain will start to settle down soon, and that I get more than the two and a half hours' of sleep I got last night.  Probably shouldn't have had as much coffee as I did.

It strikes me that it's peculiar how, if another person has a problem, I do everything I can to help, comfort, and encourage them.  But when it's me, all I can think to do is beat myself up.  

Why is it so hard to give myself the grace that I would so readily give?  The bashing, the bullying, the name calling -  beyond the shadow of a doubt this would be considered abuse if I treated another human this way - even my worst enemy. As a Christian, I'm called to love my neighbors (i.e., everybody) as myself.  But when I don't love myself well, how does that manifest externally?  I know that I've been guilty of unconsciously castigating the 'me' I see in my daughter.  Ugh.  I suppose it's pride:  I should be better than this; above making all these stupid mistakes. 

As John Wesley said, "We cannot find any ground in Scripture to suppose, that any inhabitant of a house of clay is wholly exempt either from bodily infirmities, or from ignorance of many things;or to imagine any is incapable of mistake, or falling into divers temptations."  

God has forgiven me for mistakes and temptations so much more heinous than the 'sin' of omission that I've been dealing with.  Why do I think I don't deserve to cut myself the same slack I would cut others?  Just as I don't have to earn grace from God, I shouldn't have to earn grace from myself.  I have to find a way to let the Christ in me, forgive the mistakes made by the sinner in me.  Oh, and love me, too, while I'm at it.

Two Steps Forward...

Yeah.  One step back. 

After a relatively successful day yesterday, I've had a set-back today.  In the big scheme of things, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen,  but it sure wasn't the best thing by a long shot.  It's somewhere in the middle of minor nuisance and insurmountable problem.  I'm hopeful there's a way to correct everything, but I'm anxious.  And there was nothing I could do about it today except freak out and worry.  Consequentially, that's what I did. 

I was paralyzed.  I curled up in an existential fetal position and gave up.  All I've done today is pray to God, over and over, for help, and take the trash out.

So, now I have two challenges:  trying to fix this whole thing tomorrow, and not giving in to the defeat.  It's hard to not go down the path that this is some sort of karmic retribution - like how dare I try to improve my life.  I know it's not; it's merely the result of earlier mistakes.  It's just that it's too early in the process to be able to maintain a victorious attitude.  It hasn't become a habit yet.

I hope I can sleep tonight.  Whatever happens, I believe it will be alright eventually, with His help, and I'll get back on track.  Sometimes you just need someone to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright.

Tired

Spent most of the day cleaning some more.  Pulling things out and assessing.  Trying to decide what isn't staying.  Got a big bag for Goodwill, and lots of coins in the tzedakah box.  Slowly moving ahead.  Praying it's in the right direction.  I'm kind of wiped out, but still have more to do.  So today's post is going to be a short one, I'm afraid.  Gotta get back at it.  Wish me luck.

Weary In Well-Doing

I would have gone; God bade me stay:
  I would have worked; God bade me rest.
He broke my will from day to day,
    He read my yearnings unexpressed,
 And said them nay.

Now I would stay; God bids me go:
  Now I would rest; God bids me work.
 He breaks my heart tossed to and fro,
 My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk
  And vex it so.

  I go, Lord, where Thou sendest me;
     Day after day I plod and moil:
 But, Christ my God, when will it be
    That I may let alone my toil
        And rest with Thee?

       - Christina G. Rossetti