People often ask me about the name of my blog... click here to read the story.

Monday, April 25, 2011

The day after

The second I saw the kitchen I was angry. Not the sighing weary anger but real- from the gut want to commit acts of violence- anger. The remnants of a fun, late night of cards and food were enough to send me over the edge. This is what happens when your children grow up and stay up later than you. Add to that dirty and clean laundry all co-mingling on the floor, last nights dishes and a plugged toilet and it's a recipe for disaster.

Me stomping through the house...
NO one picks up after themselves *bang*
they treat me like a maid *slam*
no respect. I get absolutely zero respect *violently throwing clothes in the general direction of the laundry room*
Room and board. I'm going to start charging room and board *slam slam bang*
I have to go away to WORK now...where I cook and clean and WAIT on OTHER people *yelled as I grab my bag and slam my way out the door*

You get the picture.

Once at work I remember there's no milk. *slam* Oh yeah, nobody is here to hear me.
I make my list and run to get groceries and upon my return, I hit my head getting out of the car. *moan* I put the key in the shop lock and it won't go in.
What the what!?! This just worked-I just unlocked this 20 minutes ago *fuming*
Maybe if I push a little more *snap*
Oh crap *grumbled under my breath as the key breaks off in my hand*
The universe is against me *Tears well up*
I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry *huge lump in my throat*

Tears suppressed, I get in my van and tires squealing head back home for the other keys.

Note for the future: It would be a lot easier to ask for Brad's help if you haven't acted like such a jerk. But I have no choice; so I ask. He grabs his jacket and follows me in his truck (from a distance, mind you, I'm sure fearful of what I may do). Upon arriving back at work I look and hang my head in shame and humiliation; I put the key in the wrong lock...that's why it wouldn't go in and that's why it broke.

User error. My user error. What's wrong with me! I've been opening this door for 6 years *no tears now just more anger*
As Brad pulls up, I hastily tell him the news and retreat into my shop kitchen. I assume he retrieved the broken key, I didn't stick around to find out.

In my kitchen, listening to Beethoven (which, incidentally is good, socially acceptable, appropriate for the work place anger music) I continue slamming and fuming partly wishing someone was around to care that my day's crappy and it's only 7:15 and mostly grateful no one's witnessing my hissy fit.

After I get everything going, I check my emails and facebook and finally this blog. And what do I see? Living on Sunday. What an idiot I am. Why did I ever post that? Now I have to own up to it. Wasn't yesterday Resurrection Sunday? The day we're reminded of the fact that not only did Jesus die for our sins (which should have been enough) but He rose again so that we "may have life and have it to the full".

So far my Monday living was full. Full. Of. Crap.

Legitimate frustration with my family for not picking up after themselves spiraled within seconds to full blown anger, resentment, bitterness and more anger. But I was at work now.

It was a busy day at the shop. 20+ women came in and I was friendly and charming and served them with a smile. None of them would have guessed that I still harbored malicious thoughts towards my own flesh and blood.

I'd love to end this post by telling you that when I got home the kids apologized and I apologized and we all made up and had a big family hug. But the reality is, although I'm letting it go, I'm still a little miffed and trying to get over my pity party.

Will living on Sunday ever be easy?*

*that's a rhetorical question.
**both photos are Lois (Jane Kaczmarek) from Malcolm in the Middle

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Living on Sunday.

Both videos are sermon exerpts from Dr. S.M. Lockridge.

It's not just the big things like disease and heartache, betrayal and loss that throw my heart and mind into a tailspin. It's small things like jealousy and envy and discontent.

It's Friday but Sunday's coming.
But why, oh why do we(read me) so often live in Friday, at times completely forgetting about Sunday?
I do. I camp out there, in Jesus death, in the darkness and seeming defeat of Friday and cry out with the Psalmist
How long o, Lord? Will you forget us forever?

I stay my frustration, anger and discontent.
But the story didn't end on Friday. And my life doesn't have to be lived on Friday.
I believe I Corinthians 15: “
'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."
You don't have to live in the Friday of the jealousy, anger, bitterness and selfishness.

I want to, no matter my circumstances or surroundings, live on Sunday.





To live on Sunday for My King.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

New Song part b

It's amazing to me what some individuals and families are asked to endure.

a chronically ill child.

a terminally ill loved one.

perpetual financial issues.

the fallout of abuse.


lifelong mental illness.

betrayals in marriage, work, family, ministries.

My heart breaks for people I know facing the day to day, exhausting grind of job loss, faithless spouses, wayward children, loneliness, addictions and despair. Like the Psalmist, I cry out How long to sing this song? How long? Yet, like Jeremiah I'm reminded that because of God's deep love for us, His mercies are new every day and His faithfulness is indeed great. And with Paul I can confess and cling to the fact that because Jesus became a sacrificial lamb for me, nothing can separate me from God's love. Nothing.

May you, who are exhausted, despairing and feel like darkness is winning and you can barely hold on, may you know the Truth that God's love never fails.

And if you're not sure, I'd love to talk to you about

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

New Song

Driving to work, I questioned my ability to make it through the day. Whatever I need to get through this day, God, I'm sure I don't have it. Whatever I need has to come from you. I made it through the day. Moment by grace filled moment every need supplied until I laid my head on the pillow. God of mercy, God of grace thank you for your saving sustaining moment by moment love.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Find a Happy Place

By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.

~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Feeling like I *need* something today that's not possible.

trying to trust...

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Anything that hinders....

Obsessing. When something upsets me, usually relationally, I obsess. I stew. I ruminate. I can't stop thinking about it.

The other day I had a disturbing call. No, it wasn't one of those life changing, earth shattering calls. It was just a garden variety sucky call. Feeling defeated, attacked and generally harassed by life, it took all my mental and spiritual energy to stop replaying the call over and over in my head. The same thing happened on Facebook the other day. I'm not even positive the person was being mean, but it felt cutting and if I think about it for more than .5 seconds, I'm stuck there. Again consumed in a silly cycle of self deprecation and prideful blaming.

Thankfully, I've pretty much gotten over the adolescent notion that if someone is upset it usually has something to do with me. I know that most of the time when someone's not ok, even if they lash out at me, there's something deeper behind it. I'm merely the recipient of the emotional vomit.

So, I can know this and yet, I still obsess.

The apostle Paul encouraged the people of Corinth to ..."take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ...". Capturing thoughts tonight feels like an impossible task; they come so fast and furious. How can they be reigned in? Tamed?

And yet I'm promised that God, who started this good work of salvation and new life in me back when I was just 7 years old, will be faithful and steadfast to complete it.

So, even though it feels like I'm chasing the fluffy seeds from a dandelion while they float ever higher in the air, I keep rounding up the thoughts giving them back to the One who started all this good work.