Waking up with a smile on a Monday morning delights my heart. I scrambled out of bed, happy to be alive; which, for me, is a big deal. Especially before my coffee. After a fun, fulfilling weekend, I looked forward to the kids coming home and turkey dinners and enjoying life. Good-will and joy abounded in my spirit and mind.
Then, in a matter of seconds and very few words, my pretty little house of joy came crashing down. The blue skies darkened and big, fat rain drops started falling on my happy parade.* No, I didn’t hear some life-changing, terrible news. No one died. It was just the same old stuff that nags and pulls me down and always threatens…the same insecurities, the same sins, the same mistakes, the same arguments running on a loop in my life.
My own shortcomings and failures rose up to meet me at the intersection of fear and doubt and there I stood: in the middle of my crap.
All I could think of was joy-stolen.
Through tears and a weary heart I trudged off to work. Pasting on a smile and commanding “happy Patty” to a performance, I tried my best to live and love and work. And every time I turned around the insecurities and failures were right there, in my face. Praying, trying to sort out the Truth from the lies, I plugged along.
Prayers prayed, confessions made, forgiveness sought and granted, I move on hoping for an ever-changing heart and actions that match.
*yes, I’m mixing metaphors and being melodramatic.