And yet, here I go; I keep writing. I wanted to say something about the need to keep trying, in the face of whatever kind of obstacles. I wanted to say something about not being defined by failure, because I fail over and over again, but I still have to get up and keep trying.
Why do I keep trying? What am I trying to do? If I am trying to fix myself, to make myself worthy, to scrub myself clean so that I can finally look in the mirror and say, "I am a good person, I have achieved self sufficiency, I am immune to failure"...then I am wasting a lot of energy.
I can't eliminate the fact that I am constantly in need of forgiveness.
What I wanted to write about was how I have these kids who look at me every day and call me "Daddy" and who actually love me. Who I am and what I do matters to them. I have to keep trying, because I am their father.
I wanted to write about the wife who loves me. She is talented and competent and capable of doing the work of three people. Still, she loves me, and she needs me to love her. There is an unbreakable bond between us. If I hurt myself, she suffers. I love my wife. I have to try to give her whatever I can muster of myself.I have to keep trying. And that includes trying to write, because that is where my work is right now. "Work" is the word we use to indicate this process of trying and failing and getting up and trying again. The other word we use for this effort is "love."
What I wanted to write about was that even if I thought there was no one in this world who cared for me or depended on me, I would still have to keep trying, working, loving. This is because I know I am not made for nothing. I am made to be a gift. I am made to love. My heart begs to be able to love. I can't give up on this: no matter how desperate or small or broken I am, I have to keep begging for love.
