Childlike, not Childish

This event took place two years ago. I am just getting around to documenting it now. Thanks for indulging me.

I drove to the store with my little girls. Our local store is tiny and quaint and wonderful. It also happens to be about one quarter of a mile away--at the bottom of a very steep hill. This hill is so steep, in fact, that in the winter, my mini van (which is front wheel drive) cannot make it to the top; we just slide backwards down the hill.

We purchased what we needed, and when we came back out to the van, it would not start. The battery was dead, dead, dead.

I guess you have to drive longer than one quarter of a mile if you want your battery to charge.

Well, I was put out, to say the least. Now I had to trudge up the gruelingly steep hill with my small girls in tow and my groceries weighing heavy on my limbs.

I didn't cry. And I didn't scream. But I was huffy about it all.

Half way up the hill, when my breathing was becoming labored and my patience was waning thin, my five-year-old spoke up.

She simply, happily, declared: "I'm so glad Jesus gave me legs! Then I can just walk home."

My children have a grateful, submissive, joyful relationship with their God. I know why He wants me to be like them. I am thankful for the many chances I have to become as a child.

Winning through Him

Today I felt like I was failing at everything; that on some level, I was falling short in every aspect of my life.

Failing my husband. Failing my children. Failing my neighbors. Failing myself. Failing at my commitments and goals and dreams.

Have you had days like that? I like to think I'm not alone on this one.

Here's what I've learned about that. This is what I know for sure.

God does not want me to feel like a failure. Sure, there is always room for improvement, and I have to keeping stretching and growing and reaching.

BUT, failing?

That feeling doesn't come from God.

And what's more, it shows a lack of faith and hope in the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. And that's just a miserable place to be.

This is not the end for me. He died for me, and all of us, so that we can try again, begin anew, start afresh, change, grow, conquer, become.

Isn't that the very definition of winning?

Let's not give up on ourselves. He never has, and He never will.