Success is in Trying

William took off his bandana Thursday.

You know, the one that we keep tied around his neck because, well, he drools. Like, a lot. All over the front of his shirt. And well, a twenty-year-old guy just won't stay smelling like his nice axe body spray if his shirt is sticky with spit.

Like I said, William is twenty. He's got big blue eyes, and he loves to hold hands. He's never spoken, although he makes some noises occasionally. He's spent his life wheel-chair bound, and his range of motion is severely limited. His mouth is also almost constantly open, hence the drool. Not as much as some kids, but definitely a lot.

What that means is that we have good reason to keep a bandana tied around his neck. It helps him smell better, keeps him cleaner, and it generally make our lives more pleasant, since changing his shirt is one thing we don't have to add to our list of things to do.

But William took off his bandana.

And we all stopped what we were doing and watched him.

Because it was a Triumph. It was something to celebrate.

See, it's hard for William to get his hand up anywhere near his face, much less grab onto something and pull it over his head.

So when William got a hold of it and started tugging on it and trying to pull it over his head, Caitlyn yelled - in the middle of class - "Look! William's taking off his bandana!"

And every one of us held our breath and watched like it was the last race in the olympics and the United States' tie with China hinged on it.

And when it finally came off, all of us cheered and clapped and didn't think once about putting that rag around his neck again because we were so excited that he had worked hard at something he wanted and succeeded against all the odds stacked against him.

As I stood there, it struck me: I was almost in tears with excitement and joy at this seemingly tiny success - that would inevitably cause me more work, because there was a reason that we kept a bandana around William's neck - and if I could feel that joy about another human being, what must my Father in Heaven feel about me?

You know, I've spent a lot of time in my life worried about failing, about making mistakes, about doing something wrong and ruining God's plans for my life - or maybe even the lives of others. I've occasionally found myself so crippled with fear of doing something wrong that I won't even get up and try something that might very well be right. And here I was giddy with joy that William had tried to do something, succeeded - and botched up some of my plans for the day.

And I realized right about then that the Bible is full of stories of a God who works through people and their mistakes, who talks about loving lost sheep and lost children, who weeps in the dirt with a woman whose brother was dead, even when he knew he was going to raise him, a God who dies to save a people that hadn't even asked for His help.

And I realized that a God of that much grace, that Himself gave me a heart to rejoice in grace over what some would call a feeble attempt at action, must Himself rejoice in me, even when I stumble and fall and give Him more work to do by my actions.

It makes me think of the passage in Zephaniah 3, starting in verse 14 that says:

Shout for joy, O daughter of Zion!
            Shout in triumph, O Israel!
            Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
            O daughter of Jerusalem!

The LORD has taken away His judgments against you,

            He has cleared away your enemies.
            The King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst;
            You will fear disaster no more.

In that day it will be said to Jerusalem:

            “Do not be afraid, O Zion;
            Do not let your hands fall limp.

 “The LORD your God is in your midst,
            A victorious warrior.
            He will exult over you with joy,
            He will be quiet in His love,
            He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.

Our God rejoices over us - His people. He loves to watch us try and struggle and win. He has removed the judgments against us and the fears we could have because He Himself is in our midst, watching over us. 

I don't know about you, but I think, moving forward, I'm going to be a little less afraid that taking off my bandana is going to make God mad at me. In fact, my taking action may even make Him stop and say, "There! Look at that! She's working hard! She's trying! And I'm so proud of her."