I used to work with this magazine. I really lived and breathed it; The Hubby and I always argued about it. It was draining, but I loved it.
But it wasn't meant to be.
We parted ways amicably. I wished them well. I wanted that magazine to come out spectacularly. After all, that was my title, my tagline. My ideas were melded with it; part of me is in that magazine, no matter what happened.
It's finally out, a bit early, actually. And it looks good. Of course, the editor in me can't help but nitpick. But for a first issue, I have to say it's a good job. I have mixed emotions though. I'm happy for them. And I'm happy that I was part of the starting up. But--big but here, and I'm not refering to my own--I also feel this terrible disappointment.
I worked on it. Hard. And I'm not even part of it now. And my ego is hurting terribly. I can feel this huge lump in my chest. It's heavy and choking me up. Because deep, deep down, there's this part of me that wanted them to fail. Spectacularly.
I recently read about David, how he so wanted to build the grandest temple for God. But being a warrior king, he was tainted with the blood of his enemies, and God did not want a man of war to build his temple. God told David that it would be his son, Solomon, who would build it.
Did David stomp off in a huff? No. He said, "Ok, Lord. Whatever you say," and he went on to make the plans and gather the materials--for the temple that he wanted to build but could not; for the temple that would not even be credited to his name.
I pray that's how I react. With obedience and grace.
Lord, let me be like David. Let me swallow my pride. Because I know you have something greater planned for me. And that's all the sugar I need.