Roses for Regrets

I revisited my old regrets about having a Facebook account today. Where else, I ask you, can one look at the lives of people who knew you when, who started when you did and who have done astoundingly well in areas in which you have failed? Or who have at least made progress in areas in which your own life has been stymied? Nowhere else can one, at a glance, see in glorious, living color, the dreams one had for themselves, dreams that had to die, being enjoyed by others.

It's hard to watch. When life works out so differently than we have planned, it is just plain hard to watch it turn out the way we dreamed for others. It's not that I want them to fail. I don't. It's not that I want them to taste what I've tasted. I do not. Am I jealous? Yes, but more than that.

Jealousy is a word that conjures images of a mansion I wish I could buy or a vacation I wish I could take. What I am feeling is an angst that defies words. I had dear, sacred dreams for myself. Some were secret, deeply held, cherished desires. Others were seemingly simple milestones that, of course, everyone enjoys. Or so I thought. These things have been withheld from me. There are times I want to cry until I die. Just keep crying until I dry up. Other times I swing my legs over the side of my bed and get up and just go on. The latter is the preferred course.

Even though I will hit the half-century mark in a couple of years, my life isn't over. I've found a secret ingredient in the recipe of life: two, actually. One: keep setting goals (aka "dream new dreams"). Two: look for ways to help other people every single day.

The first three paragraphs of this blog post might, at first blush, appear to have been written by a selfish infidel. But they weren't. I'm a child of God, just brutally honest. I've also become, over the last couple of years (and by way of some egregious hardships and disappointments) committed to the body of Christ by way of a local church. This is new. I have spent most of my life running from long-term attachments to people due to, among other sinful bents, an aversion to pain and rejection. I have learned a GLORIOUS truth in the last couple of years. The pain is worth the beauty of interaction. Wow, is it ever.

Then there is the joy of my relationship with Jesus. He is so tender and kind. He is always there for me, injecting meaning in the simplest of places. He will never let me stay in the slough of depression or regret for long. The problem with a Christian spending time with regret is that, first and foremost, it cuts our productivity. To be corny and repetitive, you can't move forward looking back. We're going to be alive for all of eternity. No matter our station in life, we can pray, we can praise and we can do our best.

At the top of this post you'll find a photo of a church near the cabin we rented in Colorado this summer. Notice that it was built on rock. Just like my life. I'm rooted and grounded in Christ. Notice that the church is not resting on social media. The photo depicts a pretty solid foundation. There aren't any grandiose pilings, just good, old, solid rock.