The Real Hero and the Comedic Relief

If you know me, you will find the following anti-heroine stories difficult to believe. But they are true and can be corroborated by several angelic souls. As a recovering perfectionist, sharing failures publicly is good for my soul. Enough time has passed that my mortification is somewhat tempered by the hilarity of these situations and fully covered by the graciousness of forgiving friends.

Over six years ago, I signed up to send a meal to our friends. I have been the recipient of many wonderful meals through multiple meal trains, and never once has anyone who signed up not delivered a meal. Imagine my disdain when I realized late in the evening that I had NOT SENT THE MEAL. Four children, a postpartum mother, and one of our pastor friends must have eaten sandwiches or Lucky Charms for dinner. I apologized profusely, agonizingly embarrassed. I promised to sign up for a different day the following week, which I did. And on that day the following week I also did NOT SEND THE MEAL. I was beside myself. There were not enough emoticons or groveling words to express my sorrow. Our friends were excessively understanding. They gave us every excuse for ourselves: we were moving from Africa to Asia, we had just had a baby also, etc. Thank God for people who extend grace to us when we are unable to extend grace to ourselves. I did NOT sign up for another meal. We sent some kind of digital gift card so they could buy their own food and not give me another opportunity to leave them hungry. 

I wish I could say this was the only time I committed such a faux pas. It was not. This year, when I was neither moving from one continent to another nor postpartum, I again completely forgot to send a meal to another family that had recently added a baby. Worse, my husband texted them at dinner time to ask an absurd question about a brand of sausage they had recommended we try. I realized later that evening that I had promised them a very specific meal and had not only not delivered, but also had completely stood them up. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. I think I probably did both. They were so kind in response and even shared that a neighbor had brought over dinner unexpectedly, so everything "worked out perfectly". 

At that point, I realized God's provision does not depend on my performance. He doesn't need me to provide a meal for His children. And yet, He lets me try. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don't. But He never fails. Praise Him for the chances to try. Praise Him for the lessons in failure. Praise Him for His sons and daughters who extend His grace to others. Praise Him for the gift of laughing at ourselves rather than crumbling under the weight of feigned perfection. He is the real Hero, which sure takes the pressure off the rest of us.