I am having one of those days where I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. Not like I burned the toast and forgot to walk the dog but like I’ve forgotten the right way to be a human. Like I would give anything to shake my life off like a coat and, I don’t know, start over. Be someone else. Not be at all…just head straight on to hanging out with Jesus around the clock once and for all. Like, let’s just get this thing over with, shall we? 

I’m making stupid choices. I’m making mistakes. I’m talking too much. I’m not saying enough.  

Today I wanted to stay in bed. But I couldn’t. I needed to fulfill a commitment I made to teach a class at the local shelter. Here’s where it gets funny or good or what-have-you. 

It was brought to my attention that I had done something wrong. It was handled graciously but I still felt like a little girl who was sent to the principal’s office (and keep in mind, I was never sent to the principal’s office, so I was imagining how ashamed I would’ve felt). I just felt embarrassed and immature. I apologized. I was forgiven. But still, it was just hanging there. Thus, the wanting to stay in bed all day. 

But I made myself keep my commitment and I drove downtown and I got out of my car, telling Jesus, “I really don’t want to do this. You know I don’t want to be here. You know I’m just messing everything up. You’re going to have to do all the talking.” He smiled. (I’m guessing.)  

I walked in, sat down with seven women, and we got started. Our topic: forgiveness. Yep. I talked about when we have to ask for it if we’ve messed up. I talked about extending it even when we don’t want to. And I talked about experiencing it even when we don’t feel like it. I asked questions; they shared their hearts. I saw their wounds a bit more clearly. We are all just hurting women trying to figure out this life, trying to find God in all of it.  

I prayed for them, totally lumping myself in with them, that we’d say we’re sorry when we need to, that we’d forgive the people who have hurt us, that we’d completely get it that when God looks at our hearts, he sees Christ and not all of our messes.  

On the way out, one of the girls invited me to her graduation from the program. I gave her a hug, told her I was so proud of her, and headed out. I’m not sure I can go, but even in that…even in her walking up to me, calling me by my name, and asking me to be there…because she already feels like she knows me a bit in these weeks we’ve spent together, and she already believes I care about her…that’s something. That’s me doing something kinda right in the middle of the all the rest.  

I still sort of want to shake off this day, this week, my choices, this life, but I’ve been reminded that I’m forgiven and I’m seen and I’m safe and I’m loved. So I’ll just keep going.