Today has just been one of those days. Also, it’s been a week of “just one of those days.”
I’ve been dizzy for a week–so much so at times I was ill or had to cancel a class. Don’t worry too much…allergies and inner ear stuff. But that just makes this week busier and more frustrating. I am frazzled, angry, frayed, dismayed. Since I’ve been sickly and had to cancel a class meeting last week, that means I have three, four-hour class meetings throughout this week with an hour commute each way. Our mail carrier, who is not a good mail carrier, delivered a package I was (im)patiently waiting for to the wrong house today and skipped my house (outgoing mail and all) completely.
I got my shit together to go to work, and I stopped at CVS for some Dramamine and nose spray to get through tonight’s class. I forgot that CVS’s nasal spray is so artfully child-proof that my 39-year-old husband and I have never been able to get it uncapped–resorting once to cutting off the top with a serrated knife and sticking our soaked fingers up our noses. As I fought with the bottle in my car, I finally decided to huff the droplets off the outside of the bottle (seriously, it gushes out from under the cap when the cap can’t be removed)–and I promptly threw the bottle out the window. It was comically stupid.
I got a quick, late lunch, and as I drove I had a temper tantrum with God.
I AM ANGRY THAT RACHEL HELD EVANS IS DEAD. I AM SO ANNOYED AND ANGRY AND TIRED AND SAD. I AM SO SICK OF BEING DIZZY. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I’M SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT YOU’RE TELLING ME TO DO. I’M PROBABLY NOT EVEN CAPABLE. GIVE ME WISDOM, ALREADY, IF YOU’RE SO GENEROUS WITH IT. I DON’T THINK I’M BUYING WHAT YOU’RE SELLING TODAY, JESUS!
An old favorite Casting Crowns song came on just then…”Who Am I?”
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt?
Who am I, that the bright and morning star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wandering heart?
I confessed it and professed it all. Out loud. Loudly loud. Tearfully, snottily loud.
And here I am doing the thing I often think I’m not capable of. Writing. About my walk, my tantrums, my wrestling with God.
Some days it’s hard for me to buy what Jesus was selling…what God is always selling. Redemption, resurrection, unconditional love. Even when I’m feeling ugly and angry and throwing a child’s temper tantrum.
I am glad They love me as much as I love my own family. Why is it so hard to believe some days?