A Road Less Travelled

This morning started well. The day didn’t look so hard, and even Theresa being gone with three of the older children all afternoon, there should be plenty of time for me to work on homework for my medical terminology class. I had visions of finding time to bake bread, and definitely to continue my recent goal of trying to keep the kitchen clean.

I was also trying to put some serious effort into praying, and found that as I prayed for bessings for a friend, I was reminding myself how awesome God is. Everything I prayed for them seemed to get poured back on my own head as I thought about learning to truly believe that God is good, and having Jesus is better than anything else that I want or think I need. A continuing slight headache and list of stuff to get done could not possibly dampen my spirits.

And at some unspecified point my day started to unravel. I gave the kitchen a quick tidy after lunch, and headed up to study. Well, after I cleaned out my inbox (which really did need it) and sorted through some old prayer requests (because, trying to put more effort into praying, right?) and….well, generally distracting myself from studying with other completely good and useful things. After all that, of course, by that time Margary needed help with something…

By the time I’d worked through half of my chapter I knew that there was no way I was going to finish the chapter I was getting tested on *and* finally read ahead effectively on the next chapter we’d discuss during class. And very little chance of me starting work on my oral report. Which meant that next week I’d be reading the chapter for the test, trying to catch up to the chapter we’d be discussing *and* writing an entire five minute oral report.

And even what I’d read wasn’t sticking as well as it should, because I hadn’t gone over the lists of word parts early in the class-week, because I’d been busy trying to do important things like at least put effort into keeping the kitchen clean, and make food for hymn sing, and figure out how to make couponing work for me, and deposit checks, and buy water and I’d thought homework was somewhere on that list of important things, but apparently it got bumped. Like my writing time–this blog post is the first thing (besides a couple of e-mails) that I’ve written in over a week.

So I got as far as I could on my schoolwork, put away my books, posted a status message that I’d flunked the day, and went to try to deal with a house that I knew must be a mess after I’d mostly ignored it for the afternoon. I called Crystal about food to bring tonight (which was another fail, because I really should have done it hours before when there was time to make something if I needed to), put together the small amount of salad we had, tidied up the house a little bit, read Margary a book…

When I got back to the computer I found this poem waiting on the IM and I cried a little, because it was exactly what I needed.

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way

With a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day

With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,

Or a trouble is what you make it.

And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,

But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?

Come up with a smiling face.

It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there — that’s disgrace.

The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;

Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts;

It’s how did you fight and why?

And though you be done to death, what then?

If you battled the best you could;

If you played your part in the world of men,

Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,

And whether he’s slow or spry,

It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,

But only, how did you die?
–Edmund Vance Cook

And after all, I came back to where I started. Having Jesus is better than anything else I want or think I need. I’m not the one who make things all come out right, and I never will be. But He is. God is good when I’m tired, and tired of waiting, and nothing seems to get any better. And I will fight for Him to my dying breath, no matter how badly I’m losing, because in the end, He wins. And that makes everything okay.