From pleasant to the pits in no time

Have you ever had a day where you are teetering on the edge? Of course you have...right? Right?

A seemingly harmless beginning to today has continued to unravel with each passing hour. The saddest thing about it? I'm the one pulling the thread.

I cannot shake the funk that has me in a stronghold.

The words, "Get out of that pit!" are on replay in my head. Maybe because I just saw Beth Moore's book on the shelf at well, a bookstore.

This morning, we were invited to "bring a friend" day at The Little Gym. Okay, sounds good. We won't be signing up but a free hour of play should be fun for Avery.

Ah, see the fray...

Our "friend" that invited us is nowhere to be seen. Avery is hesitant to join in the group activities without a parent in tow. Partly because her "friend" is not there, partly because that's not how she rolls. Daddy finally persuades her to go in there by telling her he'll sit on the side up against the wall. Deep breath and she agrees.

And does well. She and Shawn keep exchanging these looks that same something like, I don't really get this. Avery, because she's never been to one of these. Shawn, because he's one of the few objects emitting gross amounts of testosterone.

So, I want in there. Asher won't sit still, getting into everybody's business. I wave Shawn down and we do the swap.

And I yank on that thread.

Avery doesn't see me come in, doesn't notice me sitting there for a few minutes. I'm beaming with pride at my redhead beauty doing her warm-ups.

She sees me.

And her face crumples.

And I feel like absolute crap.

She breaks from the group, ignoring the exuberant calls from the bubbly teachers and plants herself firmly in my lap and lets the tears flow. I try to talk her into going back out there, having fun, you know. But she won't do it. I figure, oh well, we're not signing her up, this isn't a test run and I need to go to the store, so let's go.

We walk back out to the lobby and she makes a beeline to the blocks that Asher is playing with and Shawn makes a beeline to me. Frustrating conversation occurs between said hubby and myself. He doesn't see my side of it (let's just leave) and I don't want to see his side of it (you just shut down and now she wants to shut down. That's stupid).

More threads come tumbling out. I'm fighting back tears b/c I've screwed up again. I don't know how to persuade a 3 1/2 year old to "have fun".

But daddy does. He gets her back in there after awhile and attaches her to a friendly teacher, sits back with an encouraging smile and watches Avery have a blast.

I lose it. All I can think is get me out of here now! Mom = tears, fear and escape. Dad = encouragement, patience and stick-to-it-iveness.

I cry the whole way home. Someone please tell me hormones are at least a little at work here. Please.

I've now successfully unraveled the better part of my day. I'm stuck in my self-pity pool and can't seem to muster the energy to get out. And I sure don't help things by denying myself proper sustenance to raise that blood sugar. A few slices of turkey does not a healthy meal make.

I did hear some great words on the radio from Alister Begg. He was speaking on reaping/sowing. Right before getting out of the car I heard him say, "when you remain in your self-pity, you are sowing self. When you don't read what you should, you are sowing self. When you read what you shouldn't, you are sowing self."

That leads me to this:

I have a chance to run to the store by myself to grab milk. Two separate gallons, no less. Skim for the majority of the family, whole for little man. While in there I want to grab a diet soda and read some entertainment mags. Gorge myself, if you will.

And as I'm joyously looking over the covers and deciding what I want to get my grubby paws on, what nugget of Truth rams itself into the forefront of my mind?

Grrrr. I know I shouldn't waste time reading and investing energy in the lives of celebrities. For me, it's an escape and a worthless one at that. On my walk to the back of the store for the milk, I wrestled with if I would obey and move on or ignore that little itch of Holy Spirit.

Hey, I had already shredded my day, so...

Why blatantly disobey? Me, who asks God to allow me to hear His voice. He complied, I left without so much as a clue as to how Paris's life has changed post-jail time and here I am, sharing this wordy account with you.

I feel better already.

By the way, the "friend" showed up an hour late...to his own class! Seems there was some miscommunication between mom and dad. I just can't imagine...