It's one thing to have lofty and wonderful thoughts about Lent. Then comes the reality of Ash Wednesday morning with the child who, "Oh, by the way..." is going to spend the night with a friend tonight and then "Did I mention...?" needs money, hasn't planned for being gone, etc. Add on my poor stressed husband with too much work he is valiantly trying to handle, volunteer work where no one is giving him any info to go from, and his mother whose rapidly failing memory is requiring immediate attention from all the sons. Let's stir in a BIG pile of work for me and that need/desire to catch up on everything (that choleric personality surfacing?).
Oh, the snappish-ness of my morning. All of which was withheld from public comment, although somewhat imperfectly. They know me too well and I didn't cover very well ... until I remembered what I had read this morning. (Did I remember to bring it to work so I could quote it? pffft! Of course not! I grabbed the wrong book.) Basically it said that anytime that we are irritated, angry, upset, want to strike out ... then the fault is not in others. The fault is in us because we are not close to Christ in that moment.
That really set me back on my heels. Not close to Christ. Well, that's what going into the desert is all about, isn't it? Oh, thanks so much, God, for plunging me in ASAP, making me actively seek Christ, making me think about it because of my tetchy mood. That would be the prayer that gets instantly answered. (His sense of humor again ... He cracks me up. And then I just have to laugh at myself.)
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