Coming Up Short

{I started this post 11/29, which explains why I was still writing about finishing NaNo.  For the record, I did reach 50K.  It wasn't pretty and a lot of it will be scrapped, but I made it.}

Tomorrow is the last day of NaNo. I'm behind in my wordcount; by tomorrow night, I need another 8,000ish words.  Doable...except for one minor detail.

I've run out of story.

I have one more chapter in my outline and thought of one I'd like to write to insert back toward the beginning, but otherwise I've got nothing!  I even wrote an epilogue to fill up word space--I hate it and will certainly delete it later, but for now it's 1,000 words!

So, I've been praying about my story and asking God to fill in where I've come short.

And He offers a world of parallels...

I had to go back to the dentist for a financial consultation--never a good sign.  The damage is workable, but that appointment and other recent events made my financial worry radar leap into high gear.  And I realized...I put a lot of stock in money.  In my savings account.  In my ability to squirrel funds away for a rainy day--all to the point that I was putting more faith in my money than I was in God to provide.

So, I've been praying about my trust issues around money and asking God to fill in where I've come short.

I worked in the church nursery one Sunday, which is usually pretty tame.  Unfortunately, a little girl cried the entire time, and I found myself smugly thinking, "Boy, I'm glad my kid doesn't do that."

The next night at a fellowship dinner, a boy came from the nursery calling out that my daughter was...crying.  The girls working in the nursery looked exhausted.

Ahem.

Smugness never prospers...So, I've been praying about my pride and asking God to fill in where I've come short.

That little girl in the nursery (and another kid) was sick, which means, of course, that my family got sick a few days later.  My red nose puts Rudolph to shame.  I emailed my mother and I'm not sure I used full sentences.  I've snapped at my daughter and wanted to cry as I watch my husband stuck doing the dishes...again.

I'm human and I'm ailing; I'm bound to come up short.  So in this time of tissues and Gatorade and Netflix and hacking coughs and hearing Pookie throw up at 2AM which leads to chaotic laundry/bath/changing/soothing midnight pandemonium.

I need grace because I come up short.
I need grace because I'm not perfect.
I need Jesus because I'm not perfect.

So here's to being on the mend...and Gatorade.