Not too long ago, I said goodbye to what was easily my favourite television show. Granted, I do not watch much TV, but it was the first show in a long time to really engage me. It was simply brilliant, which usually means cancellation is only a matter of time, but it was fun while it lasted.
The thing is, I’m not that great at goodbyes. Sure, I’m not one of those clingers, but I’d probably prefer if some things didn’t have to end. Still, goodbyes can be good, and the time has come to bid farewell:
To the pursuit of perfection. I said in a previous post that “For all my talk of not caring, I’m a bit of a paradoxical perfectionist. I’d rather do nothing, than not give something my best (very often, an unrealistic best).” Even if failure is assured, I should still try, for therein lies the true test of what is inside me.
To the idea that my life is somehow ruined because the past ten years quite drastically diverged from the path projected by the first seventeen. This is where and who I am. I am not an unfortunate tale, not a mass of one “if only” after another. Everyone’s story is different and, ideal or not, I fully embrace this as mine. And you know what? For the first time in maybe forever, I’m excited to see where the road will lead.
To the lies I’m so famous for telling myself. As much as the dark has been my refuge, it makes no sense to keep hiding. God is Light; there is no darkness in Him. Sunrise follows sunset, and I’ve chosen to stay hidden in shadow because it is comfortable. Content to remain in the prison of the familiar, I’ve dropped out of the human race, but no more.
To the belief that I can do this. Maybe other people can, but I can’t–not of my own strength, anyway. I’m much too passive to take life by the reins and send it where I want it to go. I have no trail to blaze; no frontier to claim. I possess no grand dreams of changing the world; no great mark to etch on the surface of history. What I do have is a Saviour who makes all things new; a God who delights in redeeming those who can do nothing but fail. I have friends–amazing ones–and family…people who care, and that rocks.
All I have is grace…and that’s enough.
Our humanity is the perfect canvas on which to display the masterpiece of God’s Divinity.
An amazing young lady I know wrote this song. It has this irksome way of teasing my soul into the light, but I reckon that is a good thing. May God continue to bless you, Sasha.