Failure?

It’s funny, actually, how little it takes to remind me that I’m a Failure.

The unfinished nativity calendar hanging on the wall.  (The stable scene was all ready, but Baby Jesus never came!)

A forgotten “Baby’s 1^st Nativity” book pulled out from under the couch.  (I should be reading to my daughter!  While I’m at it, I should be singing with her and doing the motions too.)

A dusty guitar forgotten in the corner of the living room.  (The Christmas present I requested and received a year ago.  Where is my motivation to sit down and learn?  I know I would enjoy it and it would be good for me.) 

A pile of library books on the floor.  (Oh yes, we’ve lost one.  Why haven’t I taken the time to search under couches and cushions?)

The boys’ messy room.  (I try to tell them to keep it picked up- it’s easier to do a little bit every day.  But how can I teach them when I myself have so much trouble with that?)

The long list of baby gifts we received.  (It’s still on a page in my trusty notebook.  I was so grateful- how hard can it be to sit down and write thank you notes?  By the way, “Thank you” if your name is on that list!)

The kitchen counter cluttered with random things.  An unpacked box of random things from our Christmas trip.  A pile of random things on the bedroom floor.  The family room in the basement that slowly fills with random things that need a proper place in the storage room.  (I hate putting things away and finding places for random things!  That just might be my most despised job as household manager- The Putter-Awayer!)

The undecorated bathroom.  Dusty curtains.  The leftover Christmas wreath on the front window.  Photos that need to be printed.  Phone messages that need to be returned.  Kids that need baths.  Unwritten letters.  People to invite.  Parenting books to read.  Appointments to schedule.  Blog entries to write.  Extra income to find.

Ahhhh!!!  I’d rather have a cup of coffee and a novel and my couch, please. 

I know, I know.  If someone else had written all of this and I was sitting here reading it, I would say, “Relax.  Let go of the ‘shoulds.’  You don’t have to be perfect.  Sometimes you need that beautiful trio of the coffee, novel and couch.   You’re fine.”

I normally think of myself as someone who is comfortable being imperfect.  I don’t think I have to be perfect.  I give myself room to be less.

I think.

Then days like today I suddenly see clearly the nagging thoughts that have been eating away at me for the past week.  “Get it right!  You have so much you should be doing!  Why are you tired?  Bad!  Bad!  Bad!  FAIL!”  Somehow the thoughts sneak in and trick me!  I end up feeling overwhelmed and oh so tired.

Whew!  Now that I’ve discovered the trickery of this inner slave driver, maybe I can let it go.  Maybe I can let go of these burdens of failure.  It really is okay to be imperfect.  I'm not perfect, but I'm not a Failure.

And by the way, though I was disappointed that Jesus never got around to coming to our advent calendar before we left for Christmas, Eli and Evan made sure He and his parents found their places after we got home.  So Jesus did come after all.  He came when I wasn’t paying attention.  He slipped in via my sons when I was too distracted to make sure we had that ‘meaningful discussion’ about his appearance.  He came even when I didn’t make my best intentions materialize.  And He’s hanging around today when the threat of company tonight finally pushes me to take the abandoned advent calendar off the wall and stash it in the basement with all of the other random things waiting to find their proper place.

I’m glad He’s here.