I’m a party girl…not the cliché rootin’ tootin’ dance on a table top, swing from a chandelier "girl gone wild" type. I’m more of the games, themed decorations, cutesy door prizes type of soiree socialite. What I enjoy even more than attending parties is planning them. In the past ten years I helped organize seven weddings, more than thirty business events, twelve bridal showers, six baby showers, and at least twenty birthday bashes.
This morning I decided to throw a party of the pity variety and deemed myself the worthy honoree. After all, Pickle and Pumpkindoodle greeted me before the sun rose. I had been playing nurse aid to the Professor who is recuperating from back surgery, and legions of irritants dumped straw piles on this old camel’s back for three solid hours. I buckled. I snapped. I stomped. I pouted. I cried. I morphed into the toastmaster of my personal woe-filled hullabaloo. I’ll save you from the gloomy itinerary except to say it included me ceremoniously proclaiming myself as a second class citizen in my own home. Yes, I can be that pathetic.
I invited a few friends to the festivities, but with their God-given discernment they not only declined the subtle invitation, but helped steady me before I fell into the martyr’s pit I dug. I wish I could write that I prayed a scripture-inspired prayer laced with eloquence. But I didn’t. Instead, I whined to God. If King David got away with some venting why can’t I? My lament went something like this, “God, I love my family and I want to take good care of them, but you know as well as I do that if I get sick no one will be able to take such good care of me! And I am tired. I am so tired and I’m hormonal too.” Again, pathetic, this I know. After my whine, my spirit softened, I took off my party hat and prepared for clean up. “Lord, please help me get through this day. I’ve messed up so badly this morning. Help me make it right and please... please help me cling to your joy.”
A scripture song that I learned in college more than 15 years ago ambushed my mind “The joy of the Lord will be my strength, I will not falter, I will not faint. He will be strong to deliver me safe. The joy of the Lord is my strength.” I thanked the Lord for coming to my rescue, took several deep breaths, and readied myself for the rest of the day.
Though the afternoon held a few mishaps of its own, blessings were immeasurable: a new friend presented me with a lovely and unexpected gift that completely eradicated an earlier disappointment; another friend who lives close by invited Pumpkindoodle to her home for a playdate; my darling girl’s energy and exuberance during her gymnastic class rewarded me a second wind; The Professor showered me with words of appreciation; and precious Pickle clapped his hands and said “Mama” when I entered his room after nap time. I’m thankful that in my life’s current windy season God sees fit to douse me with sunshine and calm the winds long enough to turn my pity party into a praise party.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance should finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking in anything. James 1:2-4 NIV