If you're curious, I survived my overloaded week. I took time for my kids, kept up with my housework, even made it to the gym twice, and got all my assigments in on time, without losing any hair. I finished the first draft of my Harry Lehotsky story at midnight on Saturday after over 30 hours of work and congratulated myself for holding it together all week.
Then on Sunday I cracked. I yelled at my kids, overreacted to everything, and cried like a baby.
Confession time: This morning I drove past a school bus that had stopped in the parking lane. I wasn't thumbing my nose at the traffic laws. I wasn't late or in a hurry. I wasn't talking on my cell phone or changing the radio station or trying to spell "flatulence" backwards.
I just forgot to stop.
It bothered me all morning at work. What's wierd is that I felt worse for passing the bus than I did for yelling at my kids. I can accept the fact that I'm selfish, angry and rude, but I can't accept the fact that I make honest goofs. I think it's because I know my ability to cope with anger and stress will continue to grow, but I have no control over silly mistakes....or their consequences.
I've left the coffee pot on all day before - what if the next time I do it burns down my house? What if, the next time I unintentionally say something stupid, it costs me a friend, a job, or my reputation? What if I don't see a 3 year old step behind my car and I back over her?
Deep down I believe that God is in control. He determines the length of our lives. He's the one who gave me my house, my friends, and my job in the first place. But it's still hard to accept that I am so weak and fallible....and to offer myself the same forgiveness that He's already given.
God's grace is enough, not just for the times I cross His limits, but also for the times when I realize my own.
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