A pair of huge brown eyes stare at me as if they finally got
a convincing evidence that their mother has officially gone crazy. I see confusion
and agony battling behind those eyes, searching for adequate frame of reference
and finding none.
How could you be glad about my failure? What kind of mother are
you?!!! I know - a failure mother! There! You get an F on your parenting report card! How does it feel to you now to
get an F?
I look back, for the first time at a loss for words… for how
can I possibly convey in words alone that failure is an irreplaceable ingredient
of true success.
That it opens doors that success keeps bolted shut?
That it filters our motives and intentions…
… foster humility and compassion…
…feeds empathy…
… and it’s by far the finest, fail-proof antidote against pride.
For, how can I communicate in letters and syllables alone that
true learning doesn't commence until after
one has failed… and become trained in the gentle art of overcoming. ..?
For how can I express that one must discover for him or
herself that sometimes being knocked down is the best thing that could ever happen to
you, because you are finally on your
knees…
…finally at the
end of your rope…
…finally at the
end of yourself…
… so there can be more room for the Father…
...more space for
Jesus…
...more opportunity for the Spirit to breathe…
...fresh breath…
...fresh life…
...when there is less of you… and me.
You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. Matthew 5:3
No comments:
Post a Comment