Failure

If there is one thing that Satan will use to hunt me down relentlessly its failure, and he is on me today. It usually begins with feeling like I’ve accomplished a lot, only to be followed by all that I have not done. The have-not-domes ring so loudly in my ear, like someone playing the piccolo at its most shrill until I’m beaten into submission and literally need my blankey. I did not get a 1st of school picture for Lily. I did not buy her new converse for her uniform – we washed the ones she already had – correction, she washed them. I did not buy two of the same toy this morning at Target while getting things for Sabrinna’s apartment resulting in World War III between Irish twins. I was reminded of this when I took said toys out and play commenced. Coley lost an entire shoe at that store this morning as well. I did not make it to Roly Pollies to pick up my Yeti cup that all the young flippers are coveting that I left there 3 weeks ago. I did not get Lily’s physical done and we will have to do it this afternoon after she gets out of school, which only increases her anxiety…because of me. I did not take my vitamin. I did not eat breakfast. I did not. I am not. I am not a teacher anymore. I am not going to work trade today because I need a break. I might not go to yoga tonight for the same reason. I am. I am sick. I am sad. I am sad because my life is no longer like everyone else’s. I am unsure of what the next few minutes will hold for us. I am tired. I am tired of feeling alone in this, knowing that loved ones try to understand, but do not. I am tired of holding things together. I am tired of being the go-between. I am tired of putting myself last and not realizing that I am doing that. I am tired of having to make really really hard decisions that no one I know is having to make. I am tired of seeing my husband change. I am tired of seeing my husband, my children and our parents in pain. I am going to hug my soft brown blankey and hope nothing goes terribly awry as I rest and hope for better days tomorrow. I know that God is in control. Please, I don’t need that reminder. I am faithful. I am also tired. 

So, I’ll say this – Satan, you can suck it. Even acknowledging you is giving you way too much credit. 

Thank you, Lord, for today, even though it sucks, I will be glad in it. I was able to provide for my babies, though many cannot. I was able to kiss my husband this morning, though many cannot. I was able to put in dry, clean clothes this morning, though many cannot. I CAN eat, though I did not. I know you, Lord, though many do not.  Although my heart is sad, it is also grateful. Thank you. 

Advertisement

4 thoughts on “Failure

  1. Linda Jefferson Hopson says:

    A poem by my sister. Hold on!

    On The Edge

    For Those of Us Who Have Been There
    They say, we are strong,
    They say, we are courageous,
    They say, we are brave,
    What we are is maintaining.
    We lie awake in the early morning hours
    Clearly seeing what is…
    Questioning our lives, decisions, God
    The awesomeness of it humbles us to our knees.
    And when that sun rises we’re blessed
    Our heart and soul shaky, but refreshed
    We get up, keep on and maintain,
    Making sure everything is alright for those we love,
    Making sure they are strong, courageous and brave,
    Because we’re women….. hanging on the edge.

    Cheryl Jefferson
    February19, 2013

    Like

  2. Linda Hopson says:

    Yes, my sister Cheryl is fine with that. She also says she will pray for you to have a sliver of peace! We are a family of black women who have breast cancer in our midst: Me, my sisters Cheryl (2 times) and Janel, and my Mother, Jean. We are blessed that we have all survived, but we understand the fear; every mammogram is an ordeal. We send our love.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s