Last night I went to bed (not so much to sleep) feeling like I'd struck out. Three fast balls. Three complete whiffs. After a cloud nine week, it had become a McDonald's weekend. (That's youth ministry lingo for going from really good to crappy.) I wondered why I continued to find myself in and pursue youth ministry when I keep blowing it so bad. I tossed and turned and wondered what difference it made.
Today was like football's version of the "official review" in the replay booth. Turns out it wasn't three strikes after all. It was a hit (the metaphor fails, but just go with it), a checked swing, and a foul ball. The hit involved a student doing what I'd very firmly (forcefully) told her to do despite her multiple arguments against it. She did it, was pleasantly surprised, and saw God's fingerprints all over the situation.
The checked swing could have been ugly. A potential trust breech was avoided because level heads and honesty prevailed. I wasn't sure that would be the case, but texts first thing in the morning provided much relief.
The foul ball was miscommunication that was the direct result of a lack of communication. It's been hashed out now, but the past cannot be erased... only learned from.
A new day's perspective moved me from an out to a runner on first and a 1-1 count. That's progress. I'll take it.
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