feeling like a failure and being a failure are two different things...
I'll never forget the first time I got a B on my report card in school. It happened in 4th grade. Fourth grade math forever tarnished my All-A streak. I was terrified of my teacher, too afraid to ask questions, so I tried my best to try and figure it out on my own. I was getting it... sort of, but clearly I needed help. I wasn't grasping the concept completely, but I wasn't failing, either. And I cared. I really, really cared. I wanted an A so bad. I wanted perfection. And to this day, I still remember the devastation I felt when I took my report card home and tearfully showed my parents the big, fat B sticking out like a sore thumb amongst my beloved A's.
I cried. I cried and cried and cried about it. I felt like a failure. Up until this point, I had never had anything less than an A, and I thought I understood math. I thought I was a perfect student, but clearly that B told me otherwise. My parents did their best to console me by saying things like, "That's a good grade! There's nothing wrong with B's. And you got a B+, so that's a happy B!" They weren't the least bit disappointed in me, but I was. I was sorely disappointed in myself because I had failed to meet my own expectations. The expectation of perfection, that is.
The struggle didn't stop with fourth grade math. That was the only B I made until 7th grade algebra, and by the end of that first six weeks, I had determined that I would always be a failure at math. In my opinion, anything less than an A meant exactly that. After many tears and drawn out discussions, my parents encouraged me to take a step back from algebra and switch to regular math. I was so embarrassed, but I knew it was the best choice. What would people think of me? Now everyone would know for sure that I was a failure. But by the end of the semester, with almost perfect grades, I realized that maybe I was better at math than I thought. Maybe I wasn't a failure after all.
I can't tell you how many times I've felt like a failure throughout my life. Sometimes I was able to experience failure privately, and sometimes it was on display for the world to see. But these past few months have challenged me in every single way so that feeling like a failure seems to be the norm, not just an occasional event. Rare are the days that I look up and think, "Today was a total and complete success!" No, at the end of every day, I think about what I wanted to do but didn't get done, what I could have done better, and what I need to start doing in order to do better. I think about how I am not enough to fill the shoes I'm wearing, and most days it's like I'm hardly keeping my head above water. I look up at the end of the day and I think, "What did I even do today? In fact, what day is it?" And weeks pass so quickly that I feel as though I'll never be able to keep up. At least, not like I used to.
Do any of you really care whether or not I have a home cooked meal ready in time for dinner every night? Do you think I am a better wife or mother if I do? Do you care when I wash my hair or if I put on a full face of make up every day? Are you measuring my success as a woman by the layers of dust that have collected on my furniture or the baby items that have taken over my kitchen counter tops? Do you care whether or not I get the laundry done before we're down to our last pair of undies, if I wear the same sweatpants two days in a row because my old pants still don't fit. if I forgot to pick up milk yet again, or if it's been a week since I last wrote a blog? I bet you don't. I bet you weren't even thinking about any of those things. In fact, I bet you might say, "Hey! You've got your hands full with this new mothering gig. The fact that you have dinner put together most nights of the week, even if it's your Crock Pot doing the work, is awesome! And no one is ever caught up on laundry, so don't even worry about that!" I bet you'd find a way to tell me something encouraging about how I'm doing better than I think I am. And yet I bet you look at your own life and you have a "failure list" just like mine that might even include some of the same things.
Maybe sometimes we need to drop our expectations from perfection to reality. Maybe we need to admit that we can't do it all, at least not perfectly, and snack a bit on humility while we do our best to do what we can. Maybe we need to show ourselves grace, realizing that we're the only ones expecting such things from ourselves. And maybe we need to say, "Self, you've got this! Take it one day at a time. Do what you can and what you can't, well, do that when you can." Because when we stress over perfection, we lose joy in our reality. And when we look back, we realize that the things we were worried about, the things at which it seemed we failed, really didn't matter at all. Getting a B in math has never affected me past the day it occurred. I still went on to graduate high school and college, and let me say, there were classes in college for which I prayed for B's. A change of perspective will do that to you! And so this too shall pass. And you know what? One day, you'll look back and you'll see it for what it is. Not a failure. You're not a failure. Keep trying. Do what you can. Don't give up. And when the going gets hard, and when it feels like you can't get it together, remember that God is your helper. So just like Peter, keep your eyes on Him as you walk His way, and He won't let you drown.
I cried. I cried and cried and cried about it. I felt like a failure. Up until this point, I had never had anything less than an A, and I thought I understood math. I thought I was a perfect student, but clearly that B told me otherwise. My parents did their best to console me by saying things like, "That's a good grade! There's nothing wrong with B's. And you got a B+, so that's a happy B!" They weren't the least bit disappointed in me, but I was. I was sorely disappointed in myself because I had failed to meet my own expectations. The expectation of perfection, that is.
The struggle didn't stop with fourth grade math. That was the only B I made until 7th grade algebra, and by the end of that first six weeks, I had determined that I would always be a failure at math. In my opinion, anything less than an A meant exactly that. After many tears and drawn out discussions, my parents encouraged me to take a step back from algebra and switch to regular math. I was so embarrassed, but I knew it was the best choice. What would people think of me? Now everyone would know for sure that I was a failure. But by the end of the semester, with almost perfect grades, I realized that maybe I was better at math than I thought. Maybe I wasn't a failure after all.
I can't tell you how many times I've felt like a failure throughout my life. Sometimes I was able to experience failure privately, and sometimes it was on display for the world to see. But these past few months have challenged me in every single way so that feeling like a failure seems to be the norm, not just an occasional event. Rare are the days that I look up and think, "Today was a total and complete success!" No, at the end of every day, I think about what I wanted to do but didn't get done, what I could have done better, and what I need to start doing in order to do better. I think about how I am not enough to fill the shoes I'm wearing, and most days it's like I'm hardly keeping my head above water. I look up at the end of the day and I think, "What did I even do today? In fact, what day is it?" And weeks pass so quickly that I feel as though I'll never be able to keep up. At least, not like I used to.
Do any of you really care whether or not I have a home cooked meal ready in time for dinner every night? Do you think I am a better wife or mother if I do? Do you care when I wash my hair or if I put on a full face of make up every day? Are you measuring my success as a woman by the layers of dust that have collected on my furniture or the baby items that have taken over my kitchen counter tops? Do you care whether or not I get the laundry done before we're down to our last pair of undies, if I wear the same sweatpants two days in a row because my old pants still don't fit. if I forgot to pick up milk yet again, or if it's been a week since I last wrote a blog? I bet you don't. I bet you weren't even thinking about any of those things. In fact, I bet you might say, "Hey! You've got your hands full with this new mothering gig. The fact that you have dinner put together most nights of the week, even if it's your Crock Pot doing the work, is awesome! And no one is ever caught up on laundry, so don't even worry about that!" I bet you'd find a way to tell me something encouraging about how I'm doing better than I think I am. And yet I bet you look at your own life and you have a "failure list" just like mine that might even include some of the same things.
Maybe sometimes we need to drop our expectations from perfection to reality. Maybe we need to admit that we can't do it all, at least not perfectly, and snack a bit on humility while we do our best to do what we can. Maybe we need to show ourselves grace, realizing that we're the only ones expecting such things from ourselves. And maybe we need to say, "Self, you've got this! Take it one day at a time. Do what you can and what you can't, well, do that when you can." Because when we stress over perfection, we lose joy in our reality. And when we look back, we realize that the things we were worried about, the things at which it seemed we failed, really didn't matter at all. Getting a B in math has never affected me past the day it occurred. I still went on to graduate high school and college, and let me say, there were classes in college for which I prayed for B's. A change of perspective will do that to you! And so this too shall pass. And you know what? One day, you'll look back and you'll see it for what it is. Not a failure. You're not a failure. Keep trying. Do what you can. Don't give up. And when the going gets hard, and when it feels like you can't get it together, remember that God is your helper. So just like Peter, keep your eyes on Him as you walk His way, and He won't let you drown.
“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”
- Matthew 14:28-31
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