I have had some stressful things going on lately, from a blown truck engine to someone dredging up childhood stuff to graduating our firstborn to deciding which dance studio our ballerina attends this year to the omnipresent lack of funds for things like working automobiles.
But there's no reason to be down, I tell myself. I have health & this beautiful family and food & even air conditioning … I have no reason to be anything but happy.
And so I have acted happy and I've moved forward for weeks, not realizing just how stressed and how taut my emotions until our 13yo pushed my limit this afternoon. I snapped. I yelled. I very nearly told him to find a place to live where he didn't have to do dishes.
He went silent.
And our 15yo, the one most in tune with me, the sensitive one, began sweeping.
She cleans when she's stressed.
Nothing stresses her like mama stressing.
I sat down, dejected, wondering why I'm so mean. "I'm sorry," I said to our 13yo. "No, you shouldn't be," he said, "I shouldn't have argued." "But I shouldn't yell," I said.
And still our 15yo swept.
I noticed it's 5:10pm, and remembered it's Saturday night. That thought led to another, and soon I told Cinderella I was heading to a Saturday evening worship service. She set down the broom immediately to join me.
Between singing in worship, listening to a sermon I needed, straightening out a misunderstanding with my gal, dining at ChickFilA, shopping at Fresh Market (she bought roses! pictured), to coffee & tea at Starbucks, all became right in my little world. A new perspective emerged, and a renewed trust in God to help me through the rough patch we're in.