I will start off by saying that yesterday, I...well...discovered a physiological reason for my less than stellar mood last week. It is no excuse, but I feel less like a letch and more like a real person having snapped at the president of my company twice.

I was a bit grumpy at my writing student's home on Saturday. The family had invited me for dinner and I sort of snipped at her father while he was cooking. The strange thing is that I know how very much he enjoys cooking an involved meal, using all five burners on his new stove and much chopping, mincing, stirring, and spicing. He works all week, is helping to raise five children, and is finishing up their home improvement project that has gone on for months. Therefore his time in the kitchen is a balm to his soul and a reward for his labors. Even if he were to cook liver and onions, I would enjoy being there for the evening because I was in the heart of a loving family, enjoying the fellowship of Christians, and sharing in the pleasure of watching the father/scientist/carpenter/chef relish his time among the pots and pans. Don't get me wrong...I would NOT eat the liver and onions...but I would still want to share the evening.

So...knowing that...why did I pick on her father as he cooked? His daughter had set my tastebuds to salivating with news of her father's plan to get out his Louisiana cookbook...especially after my red beans and rice disaster. Our meal? Shepherd's Pie. Granted it was a gourmet Shepard's Pie, one that truly took hours of skillful labor. But I was expecting jambalaya or something like that. I supposed I passively punished the chef for not meeting my expectations? I was snippy and disrespectful in front of his children.

Sunday's revelation made me feel a bit better, but not completely. I owe him an apology.

I also seemed to have run into a cold. Perhaps another reason for my weariness. I have been running a fever, enduring a sore throat, and coughing throughout the day. I slept a lot this weekend and napped this evening when I got home from work.

I had hoped to leave at 2:00 since I spent so much time last week working on tomorrow's event. But somehow 2:oo turned into 4:35. And I still had to go to Lowe's to pick up flowers for the display table settings.

Tomorrow I have to be there at 6:00 AM for the people setting up the tent.

Everything is printed. Everything is packed in my car. I CANNOT wait for this event--for five other egos and agendas while managing ours--to be OVER.

I will say that every day last week and again this morning, I listened to these really great sermons by John MacArthur on the disciples. Several times I was trying to take notes while driving (I know...not the best idea). I found myself looking forward to my commute just to heard the next part of the lesson. Shocking, eh? Me looking forward to my commute?

I enjoy most sermons based directly on scripture. Sermons that point out truth by looking at verses supporting other verses. Sermons that delve into the quotidian existence of the people, culture, and history of biblical times. Sermons that focus on the Lord's plans, purposes, and call to Christians rather than five steps to this or six ways to achieve this, focus on the "Thee" not the "me." Sermons where I have tasted meat that leaves me challenged to seek more, rather than milk that leaves a hollow feeling inside.

I have been praising God for the fodder of His Word this week. It never ceases to amaze me how fresh and how relevant those ancient words can be.


P.S. If you think this post is a mental or emotional rollercoaster ride (as I did when I just re-read it)...well then perhaps it is a reflection of where my head has been for a while! How wonderful it is that each day we have a whole new beginning.