Crabby Begets Crabby

I was entirely crabby yesterday. I’ve been brain wrestling with my memoir all day which left me feeling like I was a terrible writer. I picked up my daughter for her orthodontist appointment, then realized I forgot all her paperwork for getting her driver’s permit (which we were going to do afterward). I dropped her off, drove 20 minutes home then back.

By now I expected Sophie to be out of the appointment. Nope. Another 45 minutes passed. We were under a deadline to get her registered in time so she could take her test. We arrived just in time, only to hear that the person who taught her to drive (her father) must be there with her. I wanted to throw a shoe.

I apologized to Sophie for my crabbiness, then bought us all chocolate and pretzel crisps as a reward. (This was a triumph, as my pharmacy offers bonus bucks. I got all that for 15 cents!)

But then my crabbiness seeped back in. I had to prepare dinner for some friends coming over that night. I asked Patrick to pick up bread, but he couldn’t. My crabby self rubbed off on him so that when he came home he was pestered and annoyed. He later apologized.

The evening with friends went well. I look back today on yesterday and wonder why I had to be so irritable. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s that I feel pretty flustered these days with deadlines and speaking (I’m off to another gig in a few minutes) and the demands of running a household. I need a little rest.

The day ended, though, as I read through several sweet notes sent to me from the women at a church I’ll be speaking for this weekend. Oh how I needed those prayers and words of encouragement. How like Jesus to know I needed that. How like the Body of Christ to be the hands and feet and voice of Jesus to me when I felt deflated and icky at the end of the day.

I wish I could say I will never be crabby again, but to say that would be delusional. It would show I have very little knowledge of my own human frailty. But the one constant I do have is Jesus’ beautiful, available grace.

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