The road for me is endless. And though I keep my eye focused on the horizon, I don’t think I’ll ever reach my destination.
I am not an Olympic Gold Medalist Christian, Wife, Mom, Employee, Friend, Musician, Biker, Artist, Teacher, Blogger or Writer. I’m not silver or bronze, either. I’m not even a fairly good . . . any of those. Do I expect myself to be?
YOU BETCHA. Why? NOT A STINKIN CLUE.
So, on the heels of looking for permission to be where I am for now, and seeking patience and active contentment, I am reminded of another compounding issue: how easy it is to forget how far I’ve come.
I received a very touching e-mail from my sister on Mother’s Day last year. It made me cry, which in turn made me want to beat her up. Her email told me how proud she is of me and of how far I’ve come in life in spite of my background, and proud of the kind of person I’d become. Whoa. This was coming from a person who I never thought had much use for me and who I certainly never thought had any respect for the things I was trying to accomplish in my life. We have always had different perspectives, and we didn’t exactly get off on the best foot best as sisters.
When my mom and her dad got married, she was 16, I was 17 and between us, we’d experienced far more than any trusting, emotionally needy girl ought to, ever. By then neither of us had any trust in or expectations of anyone. At all. Probably not even of our selves.
So when I read her note, I was first shocked, then worried that we needed to get her meds checked. She’s not one to give approval lightly, at ALL, so to me, her words carried weight. Not that I don’t value compliments from others . . . I just don’t believe a word of it. But as I sat there trying to focus on the blurry screen through tears (well, I couldn’t see, so maybe she really said “p-o’ed” instead of “proud”) it occurred to me that I had forgotten how far I’d come. Here I am constantly dissatisfied with my current progress as Christian, wife, mom, writer, etc, etc, but forgetting that by the grace of God there has been so much healing, growth and progress in my life up to this point that some would think it a miracle, and me ungrateful. And I guess it would be true.
God had Joshua and his people haul boulders out of the Jordan River and make a memorial, something tangible so they would never forget how God had delivered them.
So, to my desire for patience and active contentment, I would like to add a healthy amount of memory. Not too much, but not wiped so clean that I forget where I came from.
And most of all, gratitude.
Thank you, Jesus. It’s only by your sweet grace and endless patience that I am even HERE.