I was in a bad mood today. One of those crazy hormonal surge kind of bad moods. One where a snuggly blanket, no responsibility and some chocolate might soothe the frayed edges of my nerve endings.
The problem. I have responsibility.. their names are Hubs, T3, and Miss H. I can’t have chocolate. (Sugar=Fibro Flare, Chocolate=Migraine) And Miss H stole my snuggly God blanket.
True confessions. I have lost my mind with my husband about 300 times today. I got mad at him because he disagreed with me about a concern I had. I got mad at him because he bought the wrong kind of light bulb.
Side note.. he bought bright fluoresent lights for our living room, y’all!! The kind that twists in a coil, and leaves the room looking bright and blue and u.g.l.y. Even on a good day, I would be annoyed by that!
Don’t worry. I have apologized. Profusely. I still feel like I could scream, or cry, or both at any given moment. But, while I was cleaning up dinner, I decided to listen to some worship music. Really loudly. I stole my daughter’s Ipod (which she purchased herself.. thankyouverymuch) because she was using my cell to call her cousin. (which is where all of my music is stored, in case you needed to know).
After the dishes were done, I could turn my attention to the rotting fruit on my counter that had started to accumulate fruit flies. Oh yes.. I am a master at this thing called home-making. Yep…
But then, a favorite Chris Tomlin song started to play.
For you see, the song that played tonight was the very same one I listened to in the car, driving my son to kindergarten.. 6+ years ago. It was a time when the Hubs and I were trying to start a church. We were trying to do what God called us to do. ears that took a huge toll on my health…
Years that God allowed for a purpose, but the enemy used to his advantage.
Imagine the triggered memories that were flooding my brain. The tears dripped off of my face onto the over ripened pineapple. Oh the miracles He has done. Oh what He has saved us from.
The lyrics you ask?
“Raise up holy hands..”
My squishy 2 year old daughter with chubby hands raised to the sky to praise a God she didn’t really even understand. She was just allowing the song to move her. My heart aches at how He was there, in the midst of that pain, even then. And how, I am reminded, over now salty, rotting fruit, and Jesus music, that He still is.
Talk about a perspective shift. Thank you Jesus for that.
And hey, I wonder which kid will get the salty pineapple??