I Am A Pin Cushion

As a child I was really good at finding things with my feet. Rusty nails, glass, pins, needles, and the occasional odd item. If something broke, and we were not sure if it had all been swept up the joke was, just wait, Amber will find it. Well, it hurts! Stepping on things, being poked, then pulling the object out. Not to mention the blood was a pain to deal with. Have you ever tried to walk while bleeding out your foot with out getting it on the floor? Oh, and try keeping your balance when something suddenly stabs the thing you are balancing on!

I tell you this because tonight I feel jabbed. Those feelings of long ago (or just last week) of being jabbed in the foot with something sharp are very present tonight. This time though it's not just my feet. I feel like I have been poked, jabbed, prodded, and stabbed with pins. All over my soul. At this present moment, my soul is a pin cushion. You remember those right? The little red tomato looking things that your mom/grandma wore on her wrist while she sewed? I would watch my mom take pins out of clothing as it passed under the needle, and jab it quickly into her pin cushion. It looked violent.

My soul is jabbed with failure. I feel it. I see it. I hear it. I know it.

Walking out the door while my daughter is screaming because mom has taken a lot of time for herself, and none for her girl. Failure. Pin prick.
House is a mess, dishes piled up, floor hasn't been mopped in a while. No order. Another pin prick. Another stab of failure to my soul.
No money. No gas. No bills being paid out of my own pocket. Failure.Poke. Jam. Jabbed.
Child behind developmentally. Not making time to work with her. Failure. Double stab.
Claiming to be a writer. Not writing. Not creating. Failure. Ouch...
Hurting my husband instead of blessing him. Failure. Pin prick.
Being jealous of friends blessings. Their ability to thrive, to do things, buy things, to not worry. Failure. Pins.
My child causes trouble every time she is at a friend's house. Failure. Prodding.
No job. No income. No provision. Failure. Pain. Stabbings.
Infertility. Not giving him another child. Her a sibling. Missing out again while others succeed. Failure. P..I..N...
Not loosing weight. Shopping with others, no clothes in my size. Knowing I'm twice as big as you. Not being attractive. Trying and getting nowhere. Not being healthy. FAILURE! Forget the pins...did a piano just fall on me?


I know that I mean more to God than this. But, I don't know that I mean more to me than this. Not tonight. I am a pin cushion. Failure are my pins. I am being pricked.