A while back, I took a writing assessment for one of my classes. And I failed. It sent me on a bit of tailspin. Not just because I had failed. But because I had failed at writing. I had once been awarded the academic honors award out of my entire senior class in college. I majored in English with a concentration in writing. As an undergraduate, the editor of the Worcester Telegram and Gazette offered me a job on his newspaper. I’d been writing poems and short stories since I’d learned how to write a pen. I am and always have been a writer. Yet, I failed.

Obviously, the sun rose the next morning, the birds outside kept singing, I published another book, and life went on. But it was a tough couple of days as I processed it. My professor at the time wanted to fight for me and have the assessment redone. She said there was “no way” I could have failed it, but I asked her to let it go. Because that was a lesson I needed to learn. Like all really important lessons, it stung. And it stuck.

I need to find my pride in my God. Not in myself. Here’s a poem I wrote during the time.

 

Abba

When did I lose You?

When did I stop thanking You for each breath?

When did I stop letting you carry the burdens?

     I’m lost.

     I’m broken.

     I’ve failed at my last strength.

     And I’m finally slipping back into Your throne room.

 

The prodigal daughter

Still covered with filth and tears.

 

Help me to let go of my reputation

So that I can cling to Yours.

 

It hurts to think that others might think of me as inadequate.

 

But I’m not even phased by the thought

that they’re not even thinking of You

     at all.

     I’m sorry.

 

Take the sting.

Crush my pride.

You are in control

And I need to accept that in all areas of my life.

 

Ready or not, Abba, I’m coming to find You.

 

     There’s no hope without You.

     There’s no purpose.

     There’s no joy.

 

I can’t live off my pride.

It’s a splintered crutch that will give way painfully.

 

Accolade will never satisfy

And I’ll always be afraid of losing it.

 

     I’ll never be the best.

 

But I can still be the best You’ve made me to be.

 

I need to only find my self-worth

in the price you paid for me.

A very, very high price indeed.