Mess

I wake with the same clenched jaw I went to bed with.  I look at the clock and single small digits stare back.  I don’t understand how laying it down doesn’t mean forgetting, moving on, surrendering it all and the feelings of failure creep in.  Faith failure, it feels like everything I believe is walking over a rickety bridge.  I can’t stay balanced.  I can barely stay on.

The little boy comes in.  He too cannot sleep but his is the rising of too many dreams.  He talks about the next day and the adventures that await.  I envy him.  It is the perfect place to be.  Embracing life.  I notice how his eyes turn, the sparkle seeps away for just a moment.  He wants to tell me about a friend and in the deepest whisper he says, “you can’t tell anyone.”  He knows this is sacred, yet he knows too anything he shares will go to his dad.  He gambles with his words.  Even the most carefree of souls has cares.

I tuck him in and the day begins earlier than usual.  Grateful I am.  More chores.  The busyness blinds me to the darkness that remains.  I have not yet unclenched my jaw, not yet freed myself of failure.    My son’s words play back in my head and I pray for his friend.  How easy it is to pray for others, ourselves, that is the rub.  Praying for ourselves means whispering the secrets.  It is revealing the wrong.  It is admitting the failure.  It is telling our heavenly Father His child is a complete mess.

I am the control freak who annotates every prayer.  I am the surrenderer who picks back up most of what she lays down.  I am the little girl whispering to her Dad.  But then in the stillness of the morning, I hear the whisper back.  Talking to Jesus, I know He is going to tell His Dad.  Seeing beyond my failure, I see a Father.  I am the mess He created.  

Perhaps this transaction of ours is exactly what it is supposed to be.  Perhaps me taking back is more prayer than possession.  Perhaps I am letting Him be Him and He is so graciously letting me be me.  

Perhaps if feelings of failure and weakness didn’t creep in.  I would have no need of Him.  Perhaps He cares that deeply knowing even the ones that pray to be carefree are meant to have cares.  Meant to carry things for others.  Meant to shoulder burdens for our beloveds.  Meant to pray big even if the heart and mind and soul are small and weary.

“Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall” Psalm 55:2