Masterpiece from Messes

Sometimes that old devil tries to remind me that I'm not that good at anything. Cakes that I put effort into fall flat. Bread dough doesn't rise, and the new recipe I tried for dinner has hubby looking at me with less than joy on his face.

Same thing with craft projects. If I'm drawing, I erase enough times that a hole ends up in the paper. When gluing items together, I look at the finished product and then it tumbles like a house of cards. Crocheting is an area I'm especially sensitive. I've watched countless tutorials on how to get that perfect edge and still, I look back after a few rows and I've got a distorted rectangle. Is there nothing I'm one hundred percent perfect at?

When I write a blog, short story, or even get lost in putting a book together, I plunge forward, so happy that the words are flowing and everything I want to convey is smooth and mistake free. But let's face it: nothing is without flaws. That's where I got the inspiration for today's blog.

Can we possibly make a masterpiece of some of the messes we've made? Figuratively as well as literally? I've messed up in life enough times, fallen short as mother, daughter, sister, friend, and wife. Yet people seem to forgive me and still love me. I was short-tempered with my mom during her battle with dementia. I still remember times that my actions or words hurt a friend or my husband. I feel that my son had the worst parent in the world when I think of dumb things I did.

Can I take all that and offer it to the One who can make a better me? Sure I was short with Mom. It wasn't easy. I hurt so much inside missing the woman she once was. Yet there were other times that I forgave myself and found kindness and patience--more than I ever would have imagined. As a mother, I see the good young man my son has grown into, and despite any flaws in my parenting, he makes me proud and happy. Words that are said unkindly can't be taken back, but I have learned to be a person to ask for forgiveness quickly. Or to say I'm sorry; I want to do better. Then I work on those areas that are most difficult.

So, when a craft project, drawing, crocheting, or other creative things come out less than perfect, what if I step back and take a look at them? Can I see something else in the pattern perhaps? Something I hadn't even thought of? I turned a distorted lap blanket into a cozy pillow cover for my couch. I was ready to throw out a month's worth of work until I saw something different.

Satan, not today! Today I'll focus on what I've learned from my mistakes. I'll be a better woman, wife, mother, friend, sister, and worker. I'll crochet my little heart out and if something goes awry, it will become something even better! Just like me!

Peace above all else

A woman walks through her door and sighs. She smiles, a tired, careworn look upon her face. Her work day was eight hours long, but felt much longer. For the burdens she shoulders add to the moments, almost like lead weights. She is the caregiver. The wife, and mother. She is the daughter of parents now old, and she has become the parent. When her mother asks a childlike question and she's taken the time to give her kindest answer, in that moment, she knows the roles have reversed.

She holds memories in her heart. Some moments of laughter from a close family, holiday memories, times that were lighter and carefree. She remembers that she, too, was once a little girl, the whole world before her, innocent and unknowing.

Past mistakes tickle at the corners of her mind, but she pushes them away. For they do no good at this moment. They only remind her what was, and torture her with what should have been. She's learned much from them though, and vows never to repeat them.

She thinks about him. Their marriage built on rocky ground, yet the solid moments they share. He's not perfect, she thinks, but then again, neither am I. But can she truly change? If she stood up for what she believes, if she voices her true opinion, if she stops pretending. . . Perhaps then, she will have peace, for that is what she longs for at this time in her life.

She is a praying woman. She's fallen asleep at night, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Are her children safe? Will her parents live to see another holiday? Is there enough money to pay the bills? Am I losing myself? God, I trust in you. I need to sleep tonight. Take these cares from me. Hold your precious little girl in your arms, please.

In the quiet of her soul she gives herself completely. For God has carried her through before. Whether the future holds change, uncertainty, loss or gain, she has known true, complete trust. And when she awakes the next morning to the challenges of a new day, hand in hand with the knowledge of her Father's unfailing love, she rises to the tasks before her, and vows with all that is within her that it will be a day of true peace.

Mistakes are a part of life

I met with one of my oldest and dearest friends today for breakfast. After great, heartfelt talk, I almost broke into tears. I thanked this particular friend for being there through some of the toughest moments of my life. Not only the normal ups and downs caused by regular day to day living, but the moments where I brought grief upon myself.

I thought back to the times in my life where I made some of the stupidest decisions in my dating choices. This friend would patiently talk me through them and talk to me about God's forgiveness, encouraging me to read my bible. During these times, I would feel as if God Himself wouldn't want to hear from me, so I stayed away from Him, feeling as if I was hiding.

My friend once told me that God throws our sins into the "sea of forgetfulness" when we confess. Being brought up Catholic and Italian, guilt and sorrow were the usual motivators. I would beat myself up for the longest time over particular instances. I felt that my sins were the worst in the world, and surely even God would never forgive me. My choices in relationships were volatile, and I fretted many a night over the issues brought on by them.

Looking back now, I wish I'd have done many things differently. I found that I was "addicted to relationships," something I encourage young girls to think seriously about before jumping in with both feet to the wrong person. In my loneliness at times, I would obsess over the next person to date, the next frenzy of hurry up and wait for the phone to ring. And in my loneliness, I would make mistake after mistake many times living with the shame of a wrong decision, hurting only myself in the process.

Take time to get to know and love yourself. I wish I'd have done this many times over. I wish I could erase the pain of a failed marriage, an abusive boyfriend, if only I'd have done my homework a little better and known what was right for me instead of always feeling I had to "have someone."

Oh how much farther I'd be in life and better off if the control freaks wouldn't have monitored my every move. How can I blame them? I allowed it to happen.

I envy people who never loved and lost. Though I believe in true love, I also know now that not everyone has a need to be with a partner. There are people who are perfectly comfortable in their own skin, enjoying their life to the fullest. Their attitude is, "if it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, I'm okay with that too."

It's time to move on from my past. After all, mistakes are a part of life, and I've learned some serious lessons from them. But when I see my son who is well-adjusted, stable and happy, I know somehow, somewhere I made at least one really good decision.