Spectacular Failure

I wish I could sing.  I want to sing, I enjoy singing, but I’m not that good at it.  It’s not a talent I have.  I actually wish I had any musical talent at all; I wouldn’t mind to play an instrument (piano, specifically) but what I really, really wish I could do is join the church choir and sing.  I have accepted the fact that I have no musical talent, can’t sing, can’t play an instrument, can’t read music … but it saddens me regardless.

I also wish I could garden.  I hate (loathe and despise) gardening but I hear people talk about their gardens and their flowers and their yards with such intensity and passion that it makes me jealous.  They talk about the primal connection they get from digging in the earth and the joy they get from seeing their flowers grow … I don’t share that passion, but I wish I did.  They make it sound so amazing, so fulfilling, so life-changing that I find myself jealous.

Even more than my wanting to sing in the church choir (which is a huge desire!) or my wanting to grow beautiful flowers (which is a lesser dream), I want to be gracious.  I want to be one of those women who entertain flawlessly, who makes every guest in her home feel honored and welcomed.  I want to be one of those women who can throw together a dinner party on a moment’s notice.  But not just gracious in terms of entertaining, I want to be That Woman who always has a pleasant face, a peaceful spirit, a gentle smile.  I want to be the woman who has a kind word for everyone, who knows when to give a hug and who knows when to offer a word of encouragement.  And it’s a good, appropriate word of encouragement.  I want to be a giver of solace and a bearer of peace.

Yeah.  Uh-huh. Let’s look at that.

 Do I sing?  No.  Do I garden?  No.  Do I entertain?  No.  Am I gracious?  No.  But there are things I do well, things that I do so well that I may be World Class Champion category good.  I can worry with the best of them.  I can obsess and stress.  I can misspeak and I can mess up.  Oh, and apparently I’ve come to learn that I also can rock the hypocrisy thing. 

At the beginning of this summer, we were handed an unexpected (and scary) medical diagnosis.  It wasn’t something we saw coming, and it totally knocked me for a loop.  I responded best as I could, by handling what I could … I made phone calls and doctor appointments; I called the insurance company and got referrals.  I made follow up appointments and I read everything I could find on WebMD (bad option, FYI).  What I didn’t do was share my fears with anyone … not my friends, not my extended family, not my immediate family, certainly not the patient.  I internalized everything and then patted myself on the back for being so strong.  (Yeah, feel free to roll your eyes here.  I have.)  Once the immediate crisis had abated, I breathed a sigh of relief … and then, a month or so later, proceeded to have a screaming, yelling meltdown fit about something totally stupid and minor.  It ended badly (ya think?) and did nothing but make things worse. 

That’s not being gracious.  That’s not being supportive and encouraging.  That’s not giving solace or bearing peace.  That’s just being a stressed out shrew.  Not a shining moment in my life.

I also realized that I have been a huge hypocrite.  I tell other people to pray, I counsel others to go to the Bible for comfort, I suggest Scripture verses that might give encouragement and peace, but when I’m the one facing a crisis, I don’t pray for the right things.  I don’t ask God to guard my tongue and my heart; I just hold everything inside, call myself “strong” and then when I break (and I do), I do so spectacularly.  I don’t mean that I don’t pray at all, I do, daily.  I ask Him to help my loved ones, I ask Him to please make the specialist have a cancellation so that we can get that appointment (and He did!), I ask Him to give my loved one peace, but when it comes to myself … no.  That I don’t do.  I don’t ask Him to give ME peace and solace.  I don’t ask Him to still my fears and silence my tongue.  I don’t ask Him what I should say or do for my loved one that will make things better – or at minimum, won’t make things worse.  Instead I ask Him to change people around me, to fix their problems, to give them wisdom and guidance and peace and then I assume I figure that, when/if that happens, then I’ll have peace. 

So far, that’s not worked out too well for me. 

Some things I’ve handled well.  Some things, not so much.  And at least one time, just about a week ago, I failed so spectacularly that the fallout has repercussions that still haven’t been fully resolved. 

That’s impressive.  Just imagine if I had invested that much time and effort and energy into a pursuit that is productive and positive. 

I want a happy, tidy ending to this.  I want to say, “And now things are better; I’m singing in the church choir, I’ve got a beautiful garden and I spend my quiet times in contemplative reflection of Scripture.  My prayer time is full and is a blessing, and both gives me solace and peace as well as allows me to be a fount of blessing to those around me.”

But that would be a lie. 

So, no happy, tiding ending.  But at least I’m a work in progress … so for that, I’ll be grateful.