If everything is so great, why am I such a jerk?

Apparently travelling a lot has me out of sorts.  I'm just not doing so well with re-entry.  Henry has been out of sorts because of it as well and his whining is interfering with my own need to whine.


I find myself staring into the distance a lot.  Well, that part is not so strange for me, but my mind is racing a mile a minute trying to process all the wonderful things going on in my life--like the awesome things Bethany is doing around the globe, a magazine interested in me doing some freelance writing about adoption, an opportunity to tutor some kids interested in writing (let's all laugh now), and just the general blessedness that is my life--while simultaneously processing the crappy things going on in the lives of those I love dearly.  Our kitchen island is littered with post-it notes of blog ideas, article themes, curriculum choices, witty zingers I'd like to say to some people,  and prayers of confession that I just have to write down frantically before I can continue to refill Henry's bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.


Truthfully, the helplessness I feel at being unable to fight back and advocate for my beloved has left me pretty raw and in what Sloan calls "primed to the pissed off position."  If I weren't bound by my Creator and Lord to see every person as created in His image, I'd totally go all ape on some people for the sake of the one I love.  

In short, I'm a real peach to be around.

And if I'm not angry, I'm just sort of...drifting?  Distant?  Not all there?  (Once again, my mind and heart are in process...) 

For example, this afternoon I went upstairs to get Grace from her nap.  As usual, I climbed the stairs with my arms full of things to be put away in her room--clean clothes, hair bows from around the house, abandoned shoes, etc.   I entered her room, turned on the light, turned off her music and ceiling fan and removed her passie.  Then, while she as still in the crib, set to putting away the items and also refilling her basket with diapers. 

Fast forward fifteen minutes and I'm downstairs helping Henry and his cousin Isabel play Candyland.   I wonder where Grace has gotten to and oh, is that her crying somewhere in the distance?

Yep.

I'd left her in the crib.

Basically, I'd just woken her up, taken away her passie, and then left her there in her room to go find more laundry and hairbows.

Mother.  Of.  The.  Year. 

Please pray for me and my family.  We need to see more of Jesus. 


Also, we could use some more wine.