Failure.

With CrossFit, it's interesting how many times you come to the end of yourself within a "short" twelve-minute workout. As a coach, I can't even count the number of times that I've bent down next to someone to remind them - "You're okay. You're not dying. It's called 'failure.' Your muscles have reached a point where they must momentarily recover before they will continue working the way your brain is telling them to work. Count out 3-5 breaths and then try again to get a few more. You're doing great. Just keep working at it." In fact, the only reason I know how to say those things to others is because I've said them to myself a million times in the middle of a WOD.

Even though I haven't really been able to challenge myself to the physical point of failure in the gym lately, I have more than met my share of it in the real world. And today, for whatever reason, has just been ripe with it.

A swim lesson that ended up being too cold sent my usually brave and cheerful little one into an absolute and total meltdown. And since this isn't our first rodeo with swim lessons that haven't gone the way I hoped, I'll be honest - it was discouraging and frustrating in the moment. I didn't react to her tears the way that I should have (I think I remember saying something like, "Look around, E....is there anyone else around here crying because it's a little cold outside?" Which, before you judge, was actually a lot kinder and gentler than the scream that I was forcing down at the moment). There were many moments of "failure" all wrapped up into that experience.

A play date that was scheduled last week for today with a sweet friend I have been trying to get together with for ages? Forgotten. Yep - just totally and completely forgotten in the moment of swimming tears and tiredness and trying to figure out what to do to get this day back on track. After scratching all the other things we had planned for the morning - library time, chiropractor, grocery store - and coming home and putting her straight to bed praying a nice nap/rest time would act as a "reset" button, I had just settled into some rest time myself when my phone rang from the kitchen for the third time in a row and it occurred to me that I was probably forgetting something important. Yep, I was. Shoot. Failure.

A tree service rep that came by three weeks ago gives me one price, then after making a friend-to-friend connection with my dad, quotes my dad a completely different (better) price than the one he gave me. Overall, this is definitely a success - a better price is always a good thing. But sometimes it's just hard in this world not to pull the feminism card and whine about the fact that men seem to work out better "deals" with other men than they do with women who are not as savvy on the market of "man" things. I talk with three different tree service men and get three pretty similar quotes (all obviously a little exorbitant), and my dad calls one guy and gets a $200 better deal which includes three whole extra trees and some large limbs off two others that weren't even part of the original discussion. Again, I know I'm complaining. In the end, we got a better deal and a good, fair price. But today it felt like I failed.

And then there's pregnancy. The constant day-to-day feeling that there's always something that I should be doing around the house or as a mom or as a wife or as a human...and yet the constant comments/pressure from those around me (that love me, I know...) that I need to be sitting down, putting my feet up, getting enough rest, taking care of this baby that is growing inside of me. So if I'm getting stuff done, I'm failing at resting. If I'm resting, I'm failing at getting stuff done. If I'm helping/parenting/playing with my four-year-old, I'm failing at resting. If I'm not helping/playing with her, I'm failing at parenting. And the battle rages on. Some days (today, for example), I just feel like a failure no matter what I choose.

Tomorrow I will probably write about rainbows and sunshine and giggles, or better yet - hopefully Jesus will invade my sinful, self-centered heart and remind me how stinking blessed I am and I will be able to come back tomorrow (or tonight) with a renewed heart and perspective on the things that really do matter. But today - for right now - this is just how I feel. This is just where I am. And it's where I need and am asking Jesus to meet me. And I'm trusting that he is able to do more than I can imagine.