The Party Is Over

One day years from now, my children are going to run across some blogs and journals I’ve written throughout the years. I wonder what they will think.  Sometimes the pages or posts are filled with happy, funny, light toned blurbs. But some of them just outline that life is hard.

 I think about David in the Bible. He’s known for pouring out his anguish in song and poems. I can relate to that. Sometimes I’m nervous that people will read my writings years from now and think I was unhappy with my life. I am not. But … life is still hard. And for as many times my heart has swelled with joy and excitement, it’s equally been filled with pain and fear.

I found myself in an emotional slump some weeks ago. After a long and trying year, my heart had about just enough of the stress I had been under. And I caved. I’d invited myself to a pity party weeks before and finally decided to show up. I wallowed. I ate. I drank. I sulked.  I checked out. I cried “woe is me… this stinks… I feel tired and lonely and discouraged.“ Tears were plentiful and self-pity was rife.

 Then an unexpected event gave me a not so pleasant wake up call. It’s as if someone splashed me in the face with a bucket of cold water … and suddenly I was aware that I had crawled in a pit and stayed there far longer than I ever meant to. The fog suddenly lifted and I was once again dissatisfied with the state of my heart.

 So, I got up, I admitted I had failed to move forward in a positive way, and I started to make changes. Out went the junk food. Out went the wine. Out went the self-pity and excuses. I have started to run again. I sought accountability and I have two fabulous friends who are not letting me off the hook when I want to give up and slide back into old patterns. I even took a break from Facebook because I was checking out of my life when I was spying on everyone else’s.

 I wish I was that person who made great choices and stuck with them and had permanent, lasting change. But I’m not. I struggle. I fall. I feel sorry for myself. I make excuses. I justify. I compare. I argue. I envy. I ignore God when he bids me come close. I shut off and shut out the good and positive to wallow in my yuckiness. I fail. Often. More than I want to admit. But I refuse to stay there. I refuse to give up. And once again, I choose to live. I chose to make positive choices that will change my heart for the better. I chose to change and move toward grace in a way that is freeing. I chose to take the 2nd, 5th, 17th, and 29th chance given me…and keep on moving forward.

As tired as I get of admitting I have failed, I am ever so thankful that every day is a new day. Every day is an opportunity to move towards the person I want to be, one choice at a time.  





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