Back into the Confessional

above: me at the helm=sinking

I had coffee with a member of my committee this morning and it felt like another trip to the confessional. I had already been feeling crummy this morning (and well most mornings lately). Some people have a way about them that is disarming and you find yourself spilling your guts. I definitely spilled my guts this morning and boy did it feel good. My committee is kind of like my board of elders, so it can be difficult to confess certain failings at work seeing as how their opinions help keep me employed (or subsequently unemployed).

Work has been really difficult lately. In the words of high school Hattie after a mistake on the soccer field, "Pretty much I suck." I've been in this different role inside of Young Life for a year and a half and still feel like I can't get the hang of it...at all. So, pretty much I suck. The pressure I feel as the sole paid staff for our area is overwhelming. I hadn't shared this thought with anyone yet, but this morning I finally confessed aloud, "I feel like I'm taking the whole ship down with me." And whether I am or not, at least the confession has now been voiced. I can't see what lies ahead or how this will all turn out. But now people are aware that I'm struggling and thus are able to help me before I sink. My confession was met with support and encouragement, and knowing my committee it will also be met with continued prayer.

I was a little taken aback this morning when my confession was met with such nonchalance. This committee member offered his support by letting me know that I have access to the life experiences of 11 other folks who have seen a lot more trials than I've encountered in my brief 28 years. As I get older I am starting to appreciate my relationships with men and women from different generations. There's a lot of wisdom from these folks that has come simply from living through hardships and surviving to tell about it. There's nothing I could share that one of them hasn't been through already.

So living imperfectly and confessing that was cathartic. I'm noticing a pattern through this project and it hasn't even been a month yet. The more honest I am with others about my failings, the better I feel. It's not that I stop being imperfect, but I realize I'm far from alone and even farther from being judged and unloved. I have a team of 11 adults who love me as I am. It's time for me to start loving me as I am.