Things are piling up and Christmas is quickly approaching. I have worked part-time all week at my various jobs and have worked more than if I had a full-time job. Plus it was my anniversary. By the time it came to Friday and our date night, I was walking the tight rope of almost being stressed out. One false move would plunge me into the deep pits of self-pity. On that night, my husband did not fall in line with my tight-fisted schedule and over I went, nose-diving into my misery.

The dispute I had with my husband on our anniversary was trivial, but his words nicked me. The words were a small pinprick of an insult that I should have been able to shake off. It was like a needle filled with poison being injected into my vein and it made me sick with rage. Shocked by my first reaction I bit my tongue quickly. It swirled in me, a raging storm, contained by pure self-control. I am bigger than this offense, fight it off, forgive and enjoy the evening. I was trying my best to put forth my fake self and disguise my mood, but it  noticeably forced.

This kind of mood does not lead to a good writing day. When I presented my half-hearted post to my husband, the editor, he claimed that he didn’t get it in a few parts and said that it was weak. I could have kicked him. He gave me that patient gaze of his and handed me back my computer and asked the question that I have asked my children many times, “do you want me to lie to you?” He is a brave man, facing my scorn twice in one weekend.

I spent the next day reflecting and writing. Although it was beneficial, it was not “blog worthy” and my husband’s honesty saved me from embarrassing myself. He knew I hadn’t learned a lesson, but used the paper as a way to vent. Which is a healthy way of clearing out the poison, but the lesson was not learned yet.

Yesterday’s post was focusing on forgiving. I thought I failed another lesson on forgiveness. I filled pages of how I failed at applying the rules of letting things go. If I would have done this better or handled my time more efficiently, and ending it with how absolutely flawed and helpless I am. Everybody is and I just need to get over it. Forgive myself for not being perfect and for others being human. Love your neighbor as you would love yourself and move on.

But little offenses that should not bother me, do bother me.  For the past few months, I have had these pesky little disputes that fly around me like a bugs, whose bites hurts, but not enough for me to do anything about it. So I force myself to forgive, or what looks like forgiveness. What I am doing is ignoring the wounds and they fester with infection. As the bites multiply, the wound becomes bigger and bigger until someone hits an exposed nerve and we have the beginnings of a war.

The disputes are wounding me because people are pointing out where I have failed. If I could just get things more under my control then I would seem more “together”. Am I comparing my heavenly father with my earthly father, who requires perfection to show affection?  Do I feel unworthy because of my lack of perfection?

The day has turned night and I am sitting at my computer desk. I have recently moved the desk to face the window, and in the soft light I can see my reflection. As I am trying to work this thing out, I can feel my anger towards that reflection building. I can feel the beginning of a  berating of the self for not getting it right. As I resist the urge, a verse pops into my head. Love thy neighbor as you love yourself. And I can feel the tension build. I know that is what I am to do. I am to love and love and love and deny myself. If I am to do that, than please take away the anger that comes with that denial. Again I hear love thy neighbor as you love yourself, with an emphasis on yourself. It echoes in my head as I glance up at the reflection in the window. You can’t love another unless you first love yourself. I feel I am unworthy because of my lack of perfection.

During the sermon today I kept getting poked awake by the word peace. I heard it during the prayer and it was the theme of the sermon. It is even written in bold letters on my journal I had in my hand. According to my Bible, peace means harmony. I do not have harmony because I am pretending to be the conductor. I have tried to orchestrate every detail to make everything perfect and I have worn myself out.

The pastor stated that when you have worn yourself out, come to the Lord and rest. Humble yourself and hand over the baton, because he is the master conductor. I am playing hard at pretending that I am perfect and worthy of the father’s love. Pretending takes a lot of effort and I am weary. Like a child, I feel like I can climb into his lap and rest. Secure and finally at peace.