It was a beautiful, joyful experience. Then, it ended and life as a wife, mom, and general manager of my home resumed. For a moment I wondered why I couldn’t hold on a little longer to the satisfaction of knowing a job well done. As usual, God gave me an answer to this wondering in a reminder to get back to work.
Walking through this latest season of pandemic surge, I had not been able to shake loose this dark cloud I felt over me. I went about my usual things: prayer, Bible reading, exercise, work, family time, even summer fun times. None of them settled this dust bowl I was in. It’s been swirling around me, pulling me into its filth and blinding me from seeing anything good. I knew it was there and I didn’t like it, yet I could not escape. It took some time to realize the reason for my entrapment. The problem wasn’t the dirty vortex of opinions, accusations, and misinformation that seem to continuously spin around as we debate politics, masks, vaccines, and international terrorists. What was tethering me in my position was not an external force, it was an internal choice to remain pissed off.
Doesn’t Christmas feel strange this year? The usual large celebrations are dwindling down to small gatherings, if they are happening at all. Things I excitedly anticipated in the past are either cancelled or so unrecognizable this year that it’s hard to imagine enjoying the experience at all.