I needed this.
To sit down and write like this. Not journaling, where all my thoughts spiral and interweave, just trying to escape my head.
And certainly not a conversation, no matter how close or well-meaning the other person is.
But to stop and write this one-sided dialogue, a chance for me to speak my mind without having to hear yours.
No offense.
But truly, there is something about writing in this form, this medium, that brings such relief to my soul. To have a chance, and a structure, to connect my thoughts and even allow space for God to connect them where I would not have tried.
When I sat down and began typing, I had only the first several thoughts in my head. A start only. And honestly, I still don’t have an end to this post, though I have my suspicions about where we’re going.
But the end is not the point, the process is.
The process matters.
Sometimes I forget that. I want so badly to be at the destination, to arrive in my fullness, that I forget I have to grow in my fullness along the way.
I can’t arrive the way I begin.
But I must also allow myself the permission to begin in brokenness, with an incomplete road map and inadequate provisions.
I must also allow myself permission to fail along the way.
For without failure, how will I learn which way to go? How will I learn what I need on the journey?
I need to sit and write like this. I know that now. But I only discovered this when I failed to make this time for myself.
The permission to fail is vital in a healthy life because we will fail. And when we do, what will our response be? Will we learn from our failures? Or will we condemn ourselves for them?
Often my response has been to condemn myself. But I can now tell you, it doesn’t work well. It’s not a good option.
In three weeks of Squad Leading I can think of plenty of ways I have failed. Ways I have let myself, and others, down.
I have failed in my time management. I have failed in my duties to the squad. I have failed in communication. I have failed in prioritizing correctly. I have failed in honoring the Lord.
But in all of these things, I have learned.
I have learned a better way than I knew before and I have learned how, next time, to avoid the same failures.
I have learned that the process, as messy, disjointed, ugly, and full of failure as it may be, is important to embrace as it is, not as we want it to be.
Which is important for me to remember as I look at my life and realize I am, myself, in process.
And that’s okay. The process, the journey if you will, is how I get from where I am, to where I want to be.
But in order for me to get where I want to go, I have to know where it is I’m starting from.
This requires honesty. This requires hard truths to be faced.
This requires grace.
“Our failures can leave behind pavement or potholes. Our ability to receive grace determines which it will be.”
– Bob Goff
The part of the process I am in right now feels full of failure, uncertainty, and even some doubts.
But it is also full of the Lord’s grace and love, and a whole lot of filled up potholes.
My story, my process, is my testimony of God in my life. My successes, of His goodness. My failures, of His grace. All of it has made me who I am.
I’m not perfect. I fail often. But I am loved still, by God and by myself.
“I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.”
– Brene Brown
