failure.

I don't remember at what point in my life it began to happen. This unshakeable feeling of inadequacy.  Perhaps it's always been there, stirring within me. I was, after all, partly molded and formed by society - a society where having it all meant success and having it all together meant popularity. A society where happiness is judged by the amount of things in ones pocket and a small number on the scale. A society where somehow things outside of one's control were the only source of a sense of worthiness.

I can't pinpoint exactly when I began believing it. When I allowed myself to think this thought and then grab hold of it - tightly. Allowing it to continually make its unwanted path in my brain and snake it's way down into my very soul. This thought that can so easily trump all other truths. Even when my mind knows the difference in what is true and what is not, the thought is there. Waiting to prove itself right when everything else seems to go wrong.

I am a failure.

To fail at something still lets me blame the circumstances. I failed because of this reason. I failed because that reason was outside of my control. But to actually become a failure - this kind of thought can slice down to the very marrow of my bone. Because when this creeping thought rears its ugly head, it's not just questioning my ability or my capacity or even my surrounding forces. It questions my very being. The core of who I am. My already fragile, weak, vulnerable heart.

Am I enough? At the end of the day, when all the success and popularity and happiness melt away, am I left with the conviction that yes - even without all these things - I am still enough?

These days it feels more like a defeating, saddening sigh. I've failed at one thing or another and because of that, I must be a failure. Isn't that how it works?

I didn't check off everything on my to-do list today. Fail.
I disappointed this friend or that person. Fail.
I didn't give money to the man begging on the street. Fail.
I snapped at my teammate this morning. Fail.
I didn't hang out with a single high schooler this week. Fail.
I watched an entire season of Arrow on Netflix and didn't open a single book. Fail.
I didn't wake up early to run. Fail.
I forgot to bring something important. Fail.
I didn't engage in conversation like I should have. Fail.

Most of these things are seemingly small and unimportant and simply part of life. But believe it long enough and it becomes a habit. Believe it long enough and suddenly - I am not enough. When I allow these thoughts to grow deep roots around my heart and overflow out into my words and actions, I lose. I may not realize it at first - I shake it off with the first available mind numbing tool I can find. But inevitable, it returns. With force. Powerful force. Because you see, when I feed this thought by a simple numb, I give it space to grow. And what it grows into is a disbelief in very person I am created to be. The person He created me to be.

And when I question the creation, I question the Creator. I question His goodness, His graciousness, His sufficiency. The real question is not - am I enough? The answer for me will always be no. There is always something I can find to better or fix or do. The real question washes over me - is Christ enough for me? Is He enough?

If my answer is not yes - an everyday, resounding, confidant yes - my days will be confined to defeating sighs and a continual search for something to fill that empty ache. If my answer is not yes, I will continue to lose every single day. He is always enough - even on the days where my failure seems to be all I can think about. The question is actually not in His ability or capability to be enough. The question lies in my heart of hearts - do I believe Christ is enough?

And today, I want to choose to believe it.

enjoy.

Isn't it funny how you feel as if you are moving so slowly - yet you are speeding through the air faster then you will ever realize. As I look out my small double glassed window, dirtied by the outside world and cool to the touch, I see the planes wing extending out into the jewel blue sky and white cotton clouds. With the deep carribean blue sea below me and the light sky blue above me, it feels as if I am in a dream - nothing but a majestic rainbow of blues and whites before me. I can hear the heavy, vibrating hum of the wing's engine next to me. It's comforting, in it's own way, easing my anxious heart that the plane is indeed functioning how it should.

As I peer out this window, I'm struck by the mystery of it all. Watching the plane's wing move seemingly slowly across the blue horizon...it feels like we are inching along. Yet, the rumble of the engine tells me otherwise. In fact, we are crossing thousands upon thousands of miles in mere hours. I don't think I will ever experience something that moves as quickly as this intricate piece of metal, sailing through the air.

Life passes this same way, it seems. Always. No matter what stage of life we find ourselves in - the idea that "days pass slowly and years pass quickly" rings true to all ears - no matter our age or job description or marital status or address.

There is this quote a read a while back - Mary Oliver's words have stuck to my heart:

"When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement; I was a bridgegroom, taking the world in my arms. When it's over, I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular & real. I don't want to find myself sighing or frightened or full or argument. I don't want to end up having just visited this world." 

My days are passing slowly yet in the midst of the slowness, they are passing more quickly then I could ever dream or imagine. Isn't this true for all of us? And with realizing this discovery { or perhaps simply accepting this thing that we've known all along } the bigger, more challenging question is: What will I do with it? How does one respond to this type of tension? I wish I had an answer that was deep and inspiring and life changing. But the more I ponder this question, one word seems to echo itself inside my head: ENJOY.

Could it be that simple? I can't be sure. But if all I have is this one life to live I want to look for ways to enjoy, to see amazement in the simple, to look for extraordinary in the mundane, to discover the rawness of a real and authentic life. To enjoy and devour each day knowing that the slow, ordinary days are what make the years so magnificent and holy. Each day can be an adventure in this slow moving, fact paced life we live - if only I would grab hold of the wonder of it all.