Fish Killer

So I know by the title that PETA personnel all over the blogging world are already up in arms. Relax. This is just a story of how a little insecurity went a long way. So when I was little we had a fall festival at our church; I won a fish. Now as a little kid I.was.thrilled. Now, I'm old enough to know that goldfish are exceedingly lame, however at the time it was definitely the coolest thing ever. Eventually, as all things do, it died. I was heartbroken. Aside from the fact that I'm already a total drama queen, I had a *meltdown* I mean sobbing and the whole bit. Of course, we gave him a nice, tearful, sea burial (Aka we flushed him down the toilet) and away he went. Clearly, the death of my first goldfish was not my fault, sadly this is not the end of the story. Apparently, I really had a thing for goldfish as I grew up. Except I didn't get the lame little minnow sized ones after that; I got the big ones with those cool bubble eyes and chipmunk cheeks. You know. If you don't, look it up, it's worth the laugh. Anyways, so I slowly built up a little goldfish family in my little tank. Those fish were tough, when we moved they swam around in my dad's little home depot bucket in the back of our mini van all the way from Alabama to Florida. Then, not long after we moved, I came into my room one night to find my favorite black goldfish (ironic that he's still a goldfish even though he's black. Does that make me a goldfish racist if I say that?) dead. Belly up in my little tank. It's more frightening when you're older; seeing something die. I figured he had lived a long and full life and it was just time to go. Skip to the next day: I come home from school-Bubbleface keeled over. Bye bye fishie numero dos.  At this point I was a little distraught; why were all my fish dying? So we got a little tupperware and put some nasty fish water in it and took it to PetSmart. Yep, that name has a double meaning (Pet's Mart and Pet Smart. Aha!  Guess who it took until their senior year in high school to figure that one out?) Anyway, we went back to the girl working with the fish and she tested the water. Here comes the heartbreak: the chemical levels in the water were so high it was killing my fish. They were all going to die. SMACK! It hit me in the face. How guilty did I feel? All my fish were dying and it was my fault because I was too lazy to clean the tank. We went straight home and cleaned the tank but it was too late. The little fish had all been contaminated and they died within the week.
   Flash forward 7 years. I'm now a freshman in college. Last semester I decided I wanted a pet so I went to the store and got a Beta fish. I felt like a new parent; so excited but scared out of my mind. So help me, this fish will survive whether it wants to or not. So, I resolved to be the best fish owner in the world. I changed it's water every other day, never forgot to feed it, and talked to him a little just in case he got lonely (and because I like to talk to my pets. Don't laugh, I know you do it too). Surprise! A month later he died. His name was Dude, may he rest in peace. I was heartbroken. The people at the pet store had told me Beta's were impossible to kill! I'm cursed. I know it. That curse was confirmed when I killed Dude's successor: Mr. (I'm quite a creative pet namer aren't I?)  Finally, angry I went back to the pet store and told them something must be wrong with their fish. I was doing everything right! Or not. Turns out, when I talked to the expert I was doing *too* much. In my earnest attempt to keep these fish alive I had actually smothered them.That is when I earned a new nickname from all my friends: Fish Killer. Boy, didn't that just rub salt in my wound. Here I am, already feeling like the worst fish owner in the world and all my friends are calling me fish killer. Silly as it sounds, it was like a giant billboard pointing out a lifetime of inadequacies in pet ownership.  All that story to say that this reminds me so much of my life. I'm a perfectionist. So, when I make a mistake, I always vow to myself that I will never do that again. I tell myself that I will be perfect next time. The funny thing is; that's impossible. I'm a human. I.will.always.fail. I will always be inadequate. The reason why is because I can't do it on my own. With all those fish I was trying so hard to take care of them without the help of anyone else. Just like in life, I try so hard to be perfect, to do everything right, without letting my God help me. Clearly, I will fail every time without his help. The difference is, God is way bigger than "Pet Supermarket". Lucky for me, he has a lot more grace too. I guess the point of all this is to say: Don't let your insecurities convince you you have to be perfect. Just because you messed up your fish died, doesn't make you branded a "fish killer" for eternity. That brand of imperfection has already been wiped away. Matthew 19:26 says "When the disciples heard this they were greatly astonished, saying 'who then can be saved!' Jesus looked at them and said ' With man this is impossible, but with God, all things are possible". Aha! The dirty truth: without God I will always be a fish killer, *But*, with him I'll have a lot more luck keeping them alive.