My Gully Needed Washing!

Okay, now I can confess it. I spent most of last week in a funk. It was something resembling a really bad case of PMS, only it was the wrong time of the month, so there was no excuse but my own bad attitude and a lot of stress. I was emotionally and physically exhausted after the adoption setback, Eli's illness, Garin's new rebellious streak and the travel trauma, among other things. I was trying to resign myself to the new developments and make it all okay in my head, and I was trying to do it without falling apart. My conclusion: Sometimes you just need to fall apart.

I give it to God and stoically determine that because I have, I don't need to cry. My faith is so strong that nothing hurts much because I know that God is working all things according to His plan. Then I get all tied in knots on the inside, and I give it to God again. This brings up the question of how I can give it back to God if I already gave it to Him in the first place. I know the answer, but I don't like it: I keep taking it back. I don't do it on purpose. In fact, most of the time, I take it one little bit at a time, and it sort of creeps back so slowly that I don't even know I have it until I start feeling ugly again.

I don't know why I think that my composure and control is what makes the world continue to spin. What arrogance is it that causes me to believe that I am somehow the glue that holds everyone else together? I spent the second half of last week tired, beating myself up that I didn't get everything done around here as soon as my feet hit the Delaware soil.

This was "race weekend" in Dover, one of the two weekends each year when all of NASCAR-dom descends upon this small city in RV's and pickup trucks, taking every hotel room and claiming our main road, a six-lane state highway, as a pedestrian walkway. Race flags go up on every store and restaurant in hopes of enticing a little business, and drunken people of all ages and socioeconomic groups weave their way from one to another in various states of dress and undress, without regard for traffic. Those of us who live here know to buy lots of groceries before Thursday, go home and don't leave the house again until at least Monday.

I was looking forward to FINALLY having a quiet weekend with my family for the first time in many weeks. We had planned a menu of favorites - NOT diet food - and I had gone shopping. We had Karl's favorite pasta dish Friday and a favorite breakfast bread on Saturday morning, followed by a Chinese cole slaw accompanied by a complete meltdown for lunch. It was proof that food does not, in fact, solve every problem. Shocker!

I confessed my weakness to my husband, who, to his credit, had not said a word but must have been wondering what kind of hormonal imbalance had overtaken me. I had another talk with God, and within minutes, in an amazing display of power, He sent a spring storm to rival even the best East Texas gullywasher. As we watched the lightning and the rain pouring down and listened to the booming thunder, it felt like my soul got a good powerwashing - something I need every once in a while when I let the gunk build up, when I let the past haunt me and present taunt me, even though I know Who holds my future.

I don't have to be strong; God is strong within me. I don't have to be perfect; Christ is perfecting me. I don't have to to live in fear because the Holy Spirit gives me hope.


"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." ~Romans 15: 13


(So we spent the rest of the weekend eating more of our favorite foods and playing outside. We missed church because driving from Dover AFB to Middletown is impossible on race day. Three of my favorite movies were on TV - The Holiday, Under the Tuscan Sun and Steel Magnolias. And Karl and I played Rummy for hours after Garin's bedtime and during his naps. Karl commented last night that it reminded him of when we were dating and newlyweds.... *sigh*.... Me too! We needed that reminder.)