Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel inexplicably blessed and so grateful for it, that you couldn't possibly convey the feeling in words? This feeling has been creeping up on me for the last week or so, and it culminated today. I'll make this brief because I am super tired and I have a monstrous amount of things I should be doing instead of typing this blog post. But I digress.
Last week while searching for some family photos to hang in a photo gallery I'm planning to put on one of our walls, I came across some old diaries/journals of mine from the age of about 11 until well into my college years. After several nights of staying up waaaaay to late and skimming the highlights of the years of my teenage confusion, I was feeling HORRIBLE. I guess the events of 4 years of high school and the first 2 years of college should not be digested in two evenings. In short, I made some less than stellar decisions in those years. Of course, who didn't, right? But so many of them I had long forgotten. And I was appalled at the attitude I had at some of my rebellious behaviour. Like I was proud of it. I had great parents and an especially loving father, so I had no issues with seeking approval from a man. I had that in my dad. Why did I make such stupid decisions? And why was I so blind to the real agenda that most boys had? That stuff was not easy to read! I was feeling pretty down for a few days.
But among all the not so pleasant reminders of my past, there were some nuggets of gold tucked away. Sentiments about my dad that were so poignant, especially since some were written only a few months before his untimely death. And although most of it produced a full body cringe in me when reading it, I realized a few days afterwards how thankful I am for God's grace, forgiveness and mercy. And the fact that he still wants to partner with me, and still has plans for me, and still wants to use me to bring glory to His name! I know it may not be anything big, but I feel like I have helped a few people in my short time here. So at least that's something, right? I'm honored that God chose me to help those few people. And when I thought I couldn't feel any more blessed and thankful, today arrived.
Today I went to visit a lady that I go to church with. She has struggled her entire life, in ways that I cannot even comprehend. With all types of abuse, from as early as she can remember. With a disability. With a difficult marriage. With self-esteem, depression, and a host of other things I cannot identify with. We talked, and we prayed together. I left there thinking how different my life was than hers. So much of what she struggles with is beyond her control. She was born into it. I have no idea what that feels like. I have no idea what it's like to not have a supportive husband. Despite all my bad decisions, God blessed me with this amazing man, who helps me in so many ways and I am so thankful for him.
And then I felt guilty. Guilty for running around like a crazy person the last few weeks trying to get my home "just right" for my husband's return. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I hadn't stopped to think about what really matters, and what I could do to try and help someone who is in a situation less blessed than my own. So a few days ago I made a promise to myself that when my new floors are in, NO MORE PROJECTS. For the rest of the year. I want to take the time to focus on what matters most. My family and helping others. So many folks I know (including me!) get so caught up in projects, self-improvement, schedules, activities, staying busy, etc. that they never stop to think about helping others. I don't want that to be me. Like Francis Chan says, Our greatest fear should not be of failure but of succeeding at things that don't really matter.
Ok, I'm not really sure that any of that was coherent to anyone but me, but it's what I felt I needed to say. I have a friend who has a blog and she's been doing a series of posts the last few weeks entitled "Let's Be Honest", so this is sort of my contribution I guess!
