I fail. I set goals; I make plans; and time and time again, I fail. Somedays, I fail before I even roll out of the bed -- wait, correct that -- I should say, MOST days. Most days, I fail before I even roll out of bed.
If I'm honest, truly honest, I have to admit that through the course of my life, my failures outweigh my successes, immeasurably outweigh them.
I've had more fresh-start-Mondays in my life that crashed well before midday than I care to admit, and my tomorrows have turned into next week, next month, next year.
I've asked myself why I even bother trying, as I've laid dreams, goals, desires, and ambitions down, picked them up, only to drop them again.
Oh, how often I fail, and sometimes, I let failure define me. I let the ugliness of its unbearable weight saturate my spirit and spread that poison to everyone who comes near me. I grumble. I complain. I find fault in others. I bask in the dark places where failure finds contentment.
Yet something in the deepest part of me beckons me to step out of the night and into the Light...
To try again.
And I do.
I dream again. I set goals. I make plans. And I dare to believe that this time will be different.
For the lessons I've learned in my failures, for the dreams that just won't die, for the goals that are still waiting to be reached, for the plans that have yet to be fulfilled, and most of all for His mercy that is new EVERY morning and for His grace that picks up my slack, I am oh-so-grateful. I am grateful for the Cross.
If I'm honest, truly honest, I have to admit that through the course of my life, my failures outweigh my successes, immeasurably outweigh them.
I've had more fresh-start-Mondays in my life that crashed well before midday than I care to admit, and my tomorrows have turned into next week, next month, next year.
I've asked myself why I even bother trying, as I've laid dreams, goals, desires, and ambitions down, picked them up, only to drop them again.
Oh, how often I fail, and sometimes, I let failure define me. I let the ugliness of its unbearable weight saturate my spirit and spread that poison to everyone who comes near me. I grumble. I complain. I find fault in others. I bask in the dark places where failure finds contentment.
Yet something in the deepest part of me beckons me to step out of the night and into the Light...
To try again.
And I do.
I dream again. I set goals. I make plans. And I dare to believe that this time will be different.
For the lessons I've learned in my failures, for the dreams that just won't die, for the goals that are still waiting to be reached, for the plans that have yet to be fulfilled, and most of all for His mercy that is new EVERY morning and for His grace that picks up my slack, I am oh-so-grateful. I am grateful for the Cross.
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