Admitting failure and receiving grace

Well, it happened. I fell on my face.

I stepped in, ran hard, and got sick. Say goodbye to my great plan of being super-productive, efficient, and cheerful! Say hello to calling in sick, barely making it through class, and staring blankly at computer screens when I have too much to do.

The reality crept in slowly. You cannot fulfill all of the commitments you have made. It is physically and emotionally impossible.

Memories of the last time I faced this reality caused my chest to tighten with anxiety.

I made a commitment. I signed a contract. They really need me. They have trusted me. I said YES to them. I can’t back out now. I can’t believe this has happened again. There must be a way to press on and plow through.
Tiffany, it’s not possible.

The last time I found myself in a similar (but less flexible) situation, I initiated a conversation with my supervisor (a Christian), hoping to find a degree of understanding and sympathy about the demands of school on my time. “Can’t do it.” That’s where it started, but it devolved into something much uglier. He sought to shame me into choosing them, into walking away from school. I left, crushed and disappointed, but still unable to make the impossible possible and still convicted (even now) that school needed to take precedence.

Those memories still fresh and painful, I wrestled through this current situation with my Father and sought the opinions of my dad and a couple trusted friends. This time, as in December, all were in agreement: It’s not possible to do everything, and school wins. You have to talk to your managers.

But God, I committed to do this thing…

I can’t just walk away.

I will plow through… Right?

I really don’t want to have this conversation with them.

See what they say.

I don’t want to.

Why?

…because they will show kindness, understanding, mercy, and love.

Yes. Yes they will. When you admit your failure in humility and truth.

But I don’t deserve that.

Oh. I’m Jonah (sort of), refusing to obey because I believe the Ninevites are unworthy of God’s mercy. Who are the Ninevites? Huh. Oh. Me. I’m the Ninevites (sort of), in over my head and in need of a sudden and drastic shift in course. I’m Jonah and the Ninevites at the same time, needing to change course and repent but unwilling to grant myself the opportunity to experience mercy and grace. (Not a perfect comparison, but definitely a compelling application of this week's minor prophet.)

I stepped into my executive director’s office this morning, and he cheerfully started talking with me about ways to get me launched and running as a salesperson. He was excited as he laid out possible ways to facilitate my growth, apologizing as he went for the lack of training I’ve received up to this point… and I tried so hard to stay present with him, to be excited about the possibilities to grow. But anxiety grabbed my shoulders and tears filled my eyes.

Sensing his discomfort and confusion, I offered to interpret: “I would like to explain to you why I’m crying right now. Between school and this new job and getting sick this week… I am sinking. I would love to talk with you about some ways to reduce my commitment here this month…  I am so sorry I am not able to follow through when I committed to work with you guys on this.”

He ran to get me tissues, and as he came back, these were the words he had for me:
“You know, you really need to think about what will be best for you. We love you here, we consider you an asset, and we really just want you to be happy. So whatever we need to do, let’s do it.”

Speechless and wanting to weep, I uttered a most heartfelt thanks.

I did not deserve that response. And I got it twice, once from the executive director and once from the director of sales. Grace and love are powerful.

I’m grateful for this tangible reminder of the gift of God’s forgiveness, and brokenhearted to admit that I am not always so conscious of it.

Teachable moment!

Part of the process of counselor training is learning the art of self-care and boundaries. Walking forward, I would like to take with me the wisdom to seek counsel on big (also medium and smallish) decisions from people who will be willing to cut through my enthusiasm to help me consider things more fully. I just get so excited with people about things they're doing that sometimes my enthusiasm leads me down too many paths at the same time.

Here’s to the learning process.

And here’s to the God of grace and Father of mercies who never ceases to amaze.