If only I’d had a better education, growing up, I wouldn’t have to try so feverishly to catch up now.
If only I’d been beautiful, the world would have opened its arms to me more willingly, and everything would have gone better.
If only I had married someone not so damaged . . .
If only we’d been able to have children . . .
If only I’d seen the trend earlier, I might have written a bestseller.
If only my gifts had been more popular and people-pleasing . . .
If only we’d been able to buy that other house . . .
If only my spiritual experiences had been a bit more sexy and eye-catching, I could have written a memoir everyone wanted to read.
If only I could look cool one day in my whole life . . .
If only we were wealthy enough to travel the world and have our spiritual epiphanies in lovelier locations . . .
If only I’d been given the gifts I wanted, rather the ones I got . . .
This is my confession today. I confess the if-only spirit that so often distracts my work and seeps into my days. I confess thinking that I might have managed my life better, were I god of the universe who had the power to do such. I confess, not open hands and receptive heart, but clenched fists and a closed life.
All I can do, dear lovely God, creative God, compassionate God, is trust the Mercy.
