I’m a schemer and dreamer. I plan things and more often than not, they do not get completed or sometimes, started at all. It’s what makes me really faulty as a person. My diet stuff has fallen on the wayside and my gym routine is spotty. My bible journaling never happened. And my regular Bible study happens in a few weeks.
Where does time go? What the heck am I doing with it all?
I’m a fail-er. I fail a lot. A helluva lot. In fact, I want to stamp “FAILED” on my forehead and give up. Cease and desist, my mind tells me, just give up. Give up on everything. Give up on dreaming, give up on planning, and while I’m at it, give up on breathing.
And that’s when the tiniest voice inside me has to remind I’m not a failure if I try again. Even if my next 100 tries are just as unfruitful.
Yes, I’m lousy.
Yes, I talk big.
Yes, I am a disorganized mess.
But I am not a failure. Even when that statement feels like a lie, I think the Holy Spirit helps me hold on to that validation. Because sometimes, that’s the last bit of thread I have left when I’m unraveled. God’s purpose for my life is bigger than all my fails. I can’t see past them sometimes, but He can.