You ever have one of those periods of time when you just feel like things are out of sorts? Like your rhythm is off? And all your good intentions, the things you hope for, are going bad? I do.
I frustrated my friend. Strike one.
I said something stupid that made my child feel self-conscious. Strike two.
I didn’t lead well at work. Strike three. You’re OUT!
(Sigh)
She was 16, and kind of a punk, although I fell in love with her the first time we met. Life wasn’t easy. A bad family situation had landed her in foster care by the time she finished grade school, and she had moved around a lot since then. Mostly not her fault, although she wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with either. But I was convinced I could change that. After all, we had a great conversation. We connected. She needed some stuff and I got it for her. Name brands that I don’t even buy myself. She moved again. Then she came back. Needed some more. “Where did it go?” I wondered. But I helped again. Encouraged her. Expected her to do better. To make something of herself.
Time went by, then I saw her again. She was heart-broken over a bad choice and a destroyed relationship. I held her while she cried. “Stay close,” I said. “Let me walk through this with you.” A few hours later she was gone, running to God knows where.
Strike out.
I sit here at my desk typing this and I can see her name on a little purple index card that is taped to the wall behind my computer. It is one of many. I wonder where she is. If she has food and shelter and safety and friends. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I enabled. Maybe I should have done something different.
“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:21-23 (NIV)
Maybe tomorrow I will get another chance to serve. To influence. To hit a relational homerun.
