Back to Myself Again

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom   (Psalms 90:12)

Note to self: never write an extended entry when you’re tired.   After that pity party, in which I managed to depress myself, I was able to get some sleep, feed myself scripture (like the verse above), and then regroup.    There is too much to be done, and certainly too many good things happening in our lives, to live under depression and despair.   The devil is a liar.  Also, there is nothing like a hurricane advisory to put life into true perspective.   So, while buying extra food, flashlights, and figuring out where we might stay if we have to evacuate, I was rudely brought back to the realization that my fatigue, too, came to pass, and there are more pressing matters at hand.

Fighting rain, we spent Saturday running around town to take advantage of Museum District Day.   Approximately 15 museums in the city offered free entrance, giving us the opportunity to see some unexplored exhibits (at least for us) at an unbeatable price.   On Saturday evening, my husband and I had a rare date night, attending a friend’s 40^th birthday party.   We enjoyed the night, but the best part was talking while sipping on a frozen slush at a local drive-thru with a 60’s theme.

Today was the Back-to-School Rally at church.   The “young church,” i.e. the 4-18 year olds, totally take over with praise and worship, gifts and talents, and even the word of God.   During a closing prayer over the children, I noticed a number of children crying at the altar, and I couldn’t help but wonder what some of them are going back to.   Our kids take so much for granted.   Even when they were in a traditional school environment, they were very sheltered from the day-to-day grind that most students experience.   Though I talk to them about how blessed they are, often when I’m disgusted about a lackadaisical attitude, I fully realize that it may be from a position of far less comfort and convenience that they realize what they have.

So tomorrow, I start my day hunting down Playdoh for a science experiment, hoping that the beans we bought will grow once planted in a clear cup so that the toddler can see all the plant’s parts as they develop, and praying that the Holy Spirit shows me yet another way to make Paul’s third missionary journey real.   And even if I have the audacity to occasionally feel sorry for myself, when it’s all said and done, I wouldn’t have it any other way.