Childhood

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Ending well

Bad days happen. 

Today was one of them…

My entire afternoon was wasted. 

It was a situation where I’m partly to blame because I didn’t push hard enough for an answer (an answer that would have saved me three hours). 

I left the store with tears stinging my eyes while also being extremely angry. 

Not fun…

I’m not a super emotional person, so emotional situations wear me out. 

The evening got better, though, when I watched the new Cinderella with the kiddos. 

We had popcorn and everything. 

 

Courage is king of the popcorn bowl

 
Rainy days–and bad days too–rarely stop kids from having fun. Their innocence is such a sweet gift. 

I want my siblings to stay as innocent as possible, to never lose the gift of finding joy in all situations. 

It’s easy for adults to be cynical. 

I hate that…

I want to be more like my little brothers and sisters. 

Their ability to trust and forgive and love and laugh amazes me. 

I never want them to lose that resilience. 

The day was pretty stinky, but it ended well. 

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Trophy collecting is a bad hobby

I played Little League baseball as a kid and I was terrible.

Right field was where I belonged because that’s what you do with a seven year old girl with no athletic ability whose stepdad happened to be the coach.

Every season I got a trophy–even though I didn’t deserve one.

TrophyMy skills didn’t improve the one year I played softball either.

Every game my coach told me the same thing when it was my turn to bat: Take one for the team. 

So I would stand at the plate, let the softball hit me, and then walk to first base.

My only prayer was that the ball wouldn’t hit me in the spot that was bruised from the week before.

As terrible as I was, I still received a trophy…

And don’t get me started about my one year of girl’s basketball.

My only contribution to the team was scoring the winning shot for the other team, but I still received a trophy…

It would be foolish for me to display all of those trophies today, wouldn’t it? And yet that’s exactly what we do with our lives.

We are so proud of accomplishments that mean absolutely nothing.

I kill it at Candy Crush. I’m the top scorer in the Game Center! That has to count for something, right?

If you really want a trophy, go to a garage sale. They’re a dime a dozen.

If it’s a life of meaning you’re after, that requires a bit more effort.

Find something you love and get to work.

Quit flirting with mediocrity at the water cooler.

Get busy!

Yes, seasons of hard work–and even failure–will come as a result.

But I promise you that the rewards you do receive won’t end up in a garage sale.

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The Ultimate Tragedy

I had the opportunity to pre-screen The Song. It was such a great movie! 

Imagine a love story by Nicholas Cage–minus the death–and the life of King Solomon modernized. The movie was real, messy even, and yet moving.

Here’s what I took away:

For years, I wondered what would’ve made me enough for my parents to stay. My dad was not in the picture. My mom chose men and addictions over her children. These memories have left a deep impression.

I daily have to stop myself from going back to those times, to adding disappointment to everything now. This calculated disappointment is crippling. Imagine going from color to black and white. The fuzzy, hazy hue distorts any goodness.

The same thing happened to Jed (the main character of The Song). His life fluctuated between seasons of hardship and overwhelming goodness. All along, he couldn’t see the beauty of his marriage to Rose or the joy in his son’s eyes. Even when his dreams came true it was never enough.

I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I’ve missed it.

How sad would that be?

The goodness and bounty of God’s love squandered because of past hurts. Never letting myself heal and experience God’s best for my life.

That’s the ultimate tragedy.

Worse than a bad childhood. Worse than a dead end career. Worse than never having a family of your own.

All of those things pale in comparison to not recognizing the goodness around you.  

I’m tired of missing it.

I’m ready to let the winds of change, the breath of God Himself, carry me farther than I ever dreamed.

Question: What’s holding you back from experiencing God’s best for you?