I am not good.

Here's what I hate: I am not good.

I have been feeling like a really lame human being lately.

Allow me to enumerate my shortcomings.

1.     I get frustrated and respond with snide sarcasm when my eleven-year old is sassy to me.  Obviously, I am lacking in maturity and patience.  

2.     The other night, when my youngest daughter threw a gigantic, rebellious, crazy fit, I felt so helpless that I wanted to call my mom or the police for help. 

3.     I backed out of a commitment because I view myself as too type-A to work well with others.  I don’t know which is worse here—the realization that I don’t work well with others or that I quit instead of trying to change this annoying character trait of mine.

4.     I may have ruined a friendship (see above).

5.     I’ve been procrastinating teaching prep.

6.     My mom is having surgery on Friday and I won’t be there to hold her hand or help in her recovery. 

7.     I’ve been mostly failing at my new year’s resolutions, which I refuse to even share with you.

8.     I forget things at the store, I burn things in the oven, I never fold the laundry unless Bill folds it with me, and I keep forgetting to mail two packages. 

9.     I’ve been critical and judgmental (because noting everyone else’s shortcomings is an attempt to make myself feel better about being lazy, forgetful, and rude.)

10. I haven’t been writing!  I am behind on EVERYTHING.

I pretty much feel like I suck.

Bill did a great job of encouraging me in the exact right manner.  He is an excellent husband, but it turns out he’s also an excellent friend, guide, and encourager.  He reminded me about things I am good at.  It was just like in Donald Miller’s recent post about changing your friends with just a few words.  It was soothing and heartening and helpful for my wounded psyche.

However, I slowly began to realize what my real problem is.

I am actually NOT good.  Duh.  When I try to do things in my own strength, I can succeed for a while—this allows me to feel puffed up and so delightfully proud.  BUT, then I slip up—I forget, I snap, I lack, I back out, I quit, I don’t, I ruin, I procrastinate, I won’t, I burn, I never, I judge, I get behind…and I basically fail at being the perfect mom/wife/daughter/friend/sister/aunt.  Then, I feel the opposite of proud.  I feel like I’ve felt all week: defeated, dumb, disappointing. 

Then, I came across a verse—one that I’ve read and heard a zillion times. 

“I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me.”

Some versions read: “…through [Christ] who gives me strength.”  But this sounds like strength is handed to me like a lotion or hairspray—I need to apply it. 

Instead, I like the version that reads He strengthens me.  Why?  Because He is doing the work.  He’s not doling out a can of strength for me to worry about applying.  He’s reaching into the very core of who I am and strengthening me from within.  HE is doing this.  I have nothing to do with it.  I just sit there and breathe.

This week of failures has allowed me to see my desperate need.  I am utterly helpless and trying to do things on my own has ended up in me tripping, slacking, and failing completely. 

Tuesday morning, I went for an early morning jog at Radnor Lake.  One of the things I love about being there early is watching the trees change with the sunrise.  The winter trees are naked and gray—but it is so beautiful to watch the morning light clothe those same trees in gleaming bronze. 

And as I watched my breath puff out in front of me, slowing to a walk (because I also fail at running), I realized that I am a bit like those gray winter trees being changed by the sun. 

Here's what I love: being changed by the Son. 

P.S. Right now, the sun is making those trees look more lovely on the outside.  But we all know what the sun is doing for the trees on the inside, right?  We might not see it, but there is still a lot happening inside those stark winter trees--we just won't see it until Spring.