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  • Writer's pictureTami Joy Flick's Musings

When Making Mistakes Feels Like Your Full Time Job

Mistakes.


I hate making them, especially when they affect others.


Here are just a few of my recent foibles:

  • Forgetting a large bill was going to be automatically deducted from my checking account and then trying to use my debit card unsuccessfully at a local business.

  • Forgetting someone had scheduled a lesson with me even though I had confirmed it just hours before.

  • Trying to squeeze in just one more thing, making me later than I wanted to be opening up the prayer room.

  • Misreading a text message and thus not picking up my child from a practice.

  • Eating something not hard and breaking a tooth. (I know it's not a mistake per say....but it still stinks.)



Sometimes my mistakes bother me so much (especially financial mistakes or those connected to my words), that I wake up in the middle of the night trying to figure out how I am going to fix them.


Here’s the confession - it super bothers me that I’m not perfect. Funny, eh? Feels silly to write those words. OF COURSE I’m not perfect. So why does this bother me so much? I know I’m a child of God. Redeemed. Loved. Highly favored.


But right now - I just feel so flawed. Incredibly imperfect. Very, very human. Ugh.


Juggling sports, lessons, and orchestra schedules for two teens is challenging. I fully acknowledge John and I are in a busy season. It definitely feels like chauffeuring and attending sporting events and music rehearsals is a part-time job, not to mention serving as a perpetual essay proofreader, Calculus tutor (John), French helper, and college application mentor. And we both work full time.


It’s a lot.


I’m thankful to have this time with our kids. I would rather be “running” with them than have an empty schedule. I am not writing this to complain. I love our life. All of it.


But this mama makes mistakes. And it never feels good when she does.


I forget things. I drop a ball. Sometimes I find out the ball was made of ceramic and it shatters and it leaves quite the mess, and other times I am thankful to find that it’s made of rubber and it bounces.


Where is God in the midst of everything?


Sometimes I blog after I’ve experienced a moment of redemption with the Lord and my soul feels settled.


Today, I’m still sorting this all out. I’m feeling a bit raw and highly flawed. I know I need to pull myself away from the mirror and stop obsessing over my imperfections. I’ll get there…eventually.


I’m typing this out while sitting on our blue couch - a couch that has been a holy place of encounter in years past. Perhaps this morning it’ll be that again.

Come, Lord Jesus.


Maranatha.

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