My Mind…

I’ve lost my mind.  Have you seen it anywhere?

I’m mad. Mostly at myself. I have entirely to much to be thankful for to be in such a pouty mood.  But this has been…it has been…I’m not even sure WHAT you call it. This week has stunk worse than…it has been dumber than…

Wow. Wow…

It is sad that in some ways I can’t entirely put my finger on more than one ACTUAL thing that has legitimately disrupted my week so much.  Sure, the hurricane knocked out power for what seemed like 76 days when it was actually about three days. It FELT like 76 days. Changing diapers by candlelight became old much faster than you might think. It was enough to disrupt the flow of things, sure. But to be honest, the biggest problem this week has been something else. It has been me.

Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.  Or one’s actions speak. Pick whichever you prefer. Right now, I don’t prefer either of those statements because they both ring very true in a not so positive way. Unfortunately, both of those things have been weak areas for me these past few days  weeks.  A friend’s beautiful son said something this week that got thoughts stirring for this post. Something hysterical. “My feelings hurt…I need Tylenol.” I know, precious, right? Seriously and ridiculously sweet.  But it got me thinking of what I think is my first memory from when I was growing up: my mother chasing me around the coffee table at my old house…with Dimetapp. Yes, Dimetapp. What was actually the GOOD  medicine. The kind that tastes like grape. The kind you got to take before they started giving you stuff that wasn’t so pleasantly flavored.  My mother chased me around the coffee table to make me take my medicine. I fought her every step of the way.

My nose was probably running like the mighty Mississippi, my head was most likely pounding,  my fever burning up and I decided that I would rather live in misery than EVER take that “nasty” medicine. When in actuality…it turned out to not be so bad. GO FIGURE! Those of you who are parents (if anyone is actually reading this) probably are familiar with this situation.  Your children don’t want what YOU want them to have…until you DON’T want them to have it. Or they don’t want what is good for them. Which is my problem. Maybe your’s to.

We had care group last night. It was a beautiful evening and we were able to sit outside on my neighbor’s porch to enjoy the fellowship and time in the word. Sounds appealing, no? Not for me. I didn’t want to go. I had tears of frustration, annoyance and the like all throughout the afternoon.  Had I been 6, you would have had to drag me there kicking and screaming.  I didn’t want to be amongst other believers when all I felt I had was negativity. I didn’t feel close to God. I just didn’t feel like it.  But I went. And needless to say, as usual, it was a lovely evening. I felt more myself afterwards, more at peace.  I enjoyed my time in scripture with other saints. This is the way that God intends it to be when His flock are gathered in his name and looking to His scripture to learn more about Him. His unchanging mercies and grace, about how we are imperfect but thankfully enough He sent His son to calvary for us. His work is already finished, and no matter how much I pouted that afternoon or let myself stew in depression for whatever reason it was, I’m forgiven, I’m loved and my faith is secure. It could go on and on.

Isn’t this how we are sometimes? We’re much like the disobedient child running around the coffee table, throwing a tantrum because we don’t want to take our medicine.  Our head could feel as though it weighs 10 pounds, our bodies burning up with fever and aches are making us miserable. And because we don’t know what is good for us, we choose to run away from the loving parent trying to help us. Who is trying to give us something that will surely bring comfort, rest and restoration.

Today I awoke and as the day wore on the solidness I felt after last night’s care group dissipated.  Things wore me down throughout the day, things that with God’s help, I need to get a handle on.  It is what festers inside of my own heart.  Sure, there are legitimate reasons to be stressed at times. But to have felt the way that I have been feeling this week isn’t justifiable.  And the sad part is should I find myself feeling the way I have been I know a loving God that asks me to cast my cares upon His shoulders. I can’t carry it, he can.  And He doesn’t expect me to do it alone. I’m not alone.

So, there is my confession. And hopefully as time trickles on there will be victory. I feel that this may be a considerable struggle for me. But where I am inconsistent, God is constant. Where I fall, He uplifts.  Where I miss the mark, His work is perfectly accurate. Where I try on my own, He gently reminds me that it isn’t anything I can do, it is already finished.

Phillipians 4:8

8Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

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