for those times when I don't do so well...

I don't know - maybe it's a firstborn thing. Maybe it's a girl thing. Maybe it's just a sin thing - but I've discovered in myself a strong (yet shockingly inconsistent) compulsion to always do everything "right." Or at least to feel unreasonably guilty when I don't. People-pleasing, I think they call it.

It really bothers me when I get to the end of the day, and all I can say to myself is, "Tierney, you just ain't done so good today." (Why bother with good grammar when everything else has already gone to pot?)

Sadly, this feeling gets to me most acutely over simple mistakes and blatant, visible sins - instead of the thousand times each hour that my heart was behind closed doors, kneeling before its own throne. To my shame, I'm often more perturbed by my mask falling off from time to time, than by the fact that I'm even wearing a mask in the first place.

Except when I stop to think about it . . . then they both bother me.

Today was kind of one of those days, at least in terms of "oops" moments.

I was blessed last month to start working for the most wonderful woman at her most wonderful little coffee shop, and I just love it. The harsh reality, however, is that this sensation of filial affection has so far done very little to abate my periodic episodes of startling ineptitude. I'm a newcomer to this gourmet scene. And I'm just kind of a spacey, distractable individual, prone to forget things that matter when they matter most.

I left home this morning just barely on time, only to get stuck behind an elderly driver in an elderly Grand Marquis, waiting in a no-passing zone for an approaching vehicle half a mile away to get past before making his left turn (I love elderly people to death - they just scare me a little on the road); and then again behind a semi-truck that took almost two miles to get up to speed (my love for semi-trucks, however, was slain in its infancy, if it ever existed at all).

Nobody is ever at the coffee shop right away when it opens; but I was still five minutes late, and as the sole employee of the day, that was just not Step One as it was intended to be taken. Lesson learned: just leave early.

I got what I'm pretty sure was my first-ever customer complaint today, which made me 1) panic; and 2) realize that I take life way too personally.

Later on, I made not one, but two trips to the grocery store because I forgot the first time that I was out of not one, but two ingredients for the frosting I was supposed to be making. Good thing I was working just a block or two from the store.

I think I accidentally charged at least one lady tax on an item that didn't need it. . .

And I came home to a letter in the mailbox, putting one of my other jobs in potential jeopardy due to past disorganization on my part, of a more technically serious nature than I had heretofore been aware. . .

And I didn't have supper ready until almost 7:45 (waffles might not have been the best of all possible choices). . .

And now my left knee hurts, probably because I've hardly worn anything (on my feet, silly) but flip-flops all summer.

But you know, it could have been worse. I think. And anyway, God will use it all for some kind of unimaginable purpose. And it's good for me to fall down, to fail sometimes. The confidence that comes from satisfactory performance is mostly fake, and in any case has its foundations set in play-doh.

So here I am at the end of the day, and all I can say to myself is, "Tierney, you ain't done too good today - but your God sure is good, and He's forgiven you, and tomorrow's a new day."

That's alright. I can live with that.