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Waking Up Disappointed With Myself

I woke up feeling despondent about the second glass of wine from the night before. Feeling worried about the tightness in my jeans. Feeling disappointed in all the things I hadn’t finished. Feeling disappointed in me.

I went through the motions of the morning: turn on the tea kettle and fill up the water bottle. Pull the cat close for a morning snuggle. Settle into the big white armchair and open up the journal and decide to be honest with all those feelings.

And what came in turn was a reminder, an insistent reminder, that my disappointment in myself is not God’s disappointment in me:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. 

It’s a beautiful line that almost hides its own repetition. To be steadfast is to be unceasing. Love. Love. Love. God says.

And then:

God’s mercies never come to an end. 

Another (thankfully, mercifully) repetitive line. God’s unmerited care keeps going. Forever.

And then the very best part:

They are new every morning. 

New. Again. Today. Right now. For you. Love. Mercy. Again. Again. Again. 

I breathed it all in deep. And put on my shoes and braved the winter-in-March-in-Connecticut and went outside for a run. 

Great is your faithfulness, O Lord. 

When I wake up to disappointment, I also wake up to mercy and love. Thank God that love is what remains. 

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