Failure. 

So it’s been basically two weeks since I wrote my last blog post. I’ve actually written about failure before. I set out to write a blog post every day in November. Then it became obvious that wasn’t going to be sustainable so I was going to do every week day, but then I missed a day and that turned into a week. It’s hard to commit to things. But it’s harder to admit failure. More often than not I avoid doing things or setting out on adventures because of the risk of failure. There are all sorts of ideas I have about how to make the world a better place, to neighbor well, to raise Ashlynn, and to love Janel — but the truth is a settle often for a tv show, popcorn, and ice cream. I escape from the reality of life and the realities of my failed attempts to do all the important stuff. 

Writing is another thing I do a lot. I like to jot down ideas, write blog posts, muse on social media, (sometimes journal), and brainstorm all sorts of book ideas. I think every idea I have could be a great book. This started way back when I was a freshman in high school. I had finished reading the Hobbit after watching the LOTR trilogy a lot, and got into reading all the books. A couple of my cousins got into fan fiction and “thecouncilofelrond.com” which is a LOTR fan fiction website that helps maintain info and lore about all things Tolkien. So I embarked on my own adapted fan fiction of something post The Return of the King. I made up a language (in keeping with good Tolkien spirit, who was a linguist by training) and wrote what I thought was a lot. Looking back now my handwriting is so large and I was writing on wide rule, the seventy odd pages I wrote probably don’t even amount to twenty in a standard book (if that). I struggled with dialogue and with advancing the story along. I still have this binder with the notebook — I am afraid to actually go back and read it but I hold onto it because it represents a significant achievement for me: instead of letting the fear of failure stop me I actually put pencil to paper. One of my distinct memories was a trip to Phuket, Thailand and writing beside the pool. I can still take myself back to that memory, see the pool, feel the heat, worry about the moisture smudging the writing, and having a sore wrist from doing more handwriting than I ever did normally. 

A friend of mine worked as a free lance video editor and so I asked him for help with a project at church. He was happy to help but in our conversation he explained that a “blank slate” is actually overwhelming for a creative artist. “Show me the box and I can be incredibly creative with it” (a paraphrase of our conversation). That has stuck with me all these years. Now doing my own creative work (mostly graphic design, websites, logos, and especially marketing material) I have realized just how paralyzing it is to be given the “I trust you, do whatever you think.” Every morning this month a blank word document has been the thing staring back at me. The possibilities for the blog post are endless. Some days something the day before has inspired me. Others it’s something in my house like the gas stove or the leaves falling outside. And where the possibilities are endless so is the chance for failure. It’s the limits, boundaries —the box if you will — that shows us the way. So while I failed this month to blog every day, and will likely not blog every day for the rest of the month either — I am thankful for the failure because it has reminded me of my limits for writing and expression. The boundaries are a gift. 

This blog series has been about gratitude. I am truly grateful for the failures these past couple weeks. Failures of writing, failures of social media engagement (both not posting positive messages like I had planned every day and also spending too much time scrolling through meaningless content), working out, eating right, and being available to my family — these all have been reminders of my limits. I have limits on the tasks and things I can accomplish, I have limits to the energy in my body, I have limits to my time — so many good ideas can overwhelm and paralyze us to not do anything good or well. Failure is a reminder that the strength I rely on, the power that saves me, and the hope for the future is not me — it is not my abilities, skills, training, experience, knowledge, wisdom, body, or mind — I trust in Jesus. I am thankful for failures that point me to my need for Jesus. 

Today I failed to get out of bed at the same time as Janel. I had set that as a goal. I enjoyed the days I did and got to spend lengthy time in prayer and reading before Ashlynn woke up. I usually worked out and wrote a blog post all before getting her up. But today, I woke up only minutes before she did. I stumbled down and opened up my computer instead of my bible. I ate breakfast instead of working out. I failed. Thank you God for my failures. 

I think I’ll go read a psalm now.