Grace in failure

 This body. The one I’m in. The one I hated for years, walked two miles yesterday in miserable heat. I’m learning to work with the body I’m in. I walk through pain and discomfort. My body will always know pain and discomfort. I accept what I cannot change. I can’t change Cerebral Palsy. I can’t change how age changes how this condition affects me. I’m learning to accept exhaustion. I’m learning to welcome sleep. Everything I said I would never do, I now do without apology. 

I walk in the rain. Dance in the streets. Sing in the shower. Yes to all three. Walking downtown yesterday with a friend, I realized I’m an old dog sometimes. Sometimes you can’t teach me new tricks. Sometimes you can. Depends on the day. This truth no longer hurts my feelings. Too old to give a darn. Honesty really is the best policy. The head is finally understanding the assignment. 

Stop wanting the world to understand and validate you. Most times won’t happen. I’m not upset by it. It’s a reality I wanted for most of my life.  That is until found this desire to be futile. My best friend told me she will never understand my pain. My grief. She is only here to empathize. If my best friend can’t understand, how am I to expect the world to do it. 

I got a note today that is helping me to use what is at my fingertips to answer my own questions. God, thank you. You know why. And because you know why, I can rest, not knowing my next moves. I don’t know the meaning of life. I don’t know if what I do makes a difference. Resonates. I don’t know much about much. I just trust that what I do, and who I am enough. Enough for you. Enough for me. Enough for God. 

I’m having to trust in this season, as I embark on a new journey. A new mission. A new direction. That when I don’t understand. I empathize. I give myself the grace to fail and fail again until success is mine. That is my hope for you as well.