Thursday, but not really

Bad days traditionally fall on Thursday for me, but today is Tuesday, and it's been rotten. I could reasonably blame my sour mood on some sort of strained nerve I seem to have in my neck, which (as I explained to my nurse practitioner today) gives me a solid "5" on the pain scale during most of the day and then promptly ramps up to a 7 or 8 at night. Thus, I'm exhausted and hurting today, with only a bag of frozen peas, some measly Tylenol and a page of cheekily illustrated neck exercises to get me through the next 4 to 10 days (!?) until I can expect to feel better.

Then there's the single-parenting situation that's been going on for a week and won't be remedied until later this month.

And gosh! Is it me or is the house getting itself dirtier?

I had settled firmly into a barn-burner of a pity party by mid-morning, as I groaned my way through a trip to the beach with the little people I take care of, a pizza lunch out and then back to the house to collapse on the couch with my bag of frozen peas for nap time. And boy did I deserve that pity.

Then I found this on one of my favorite spiritually-inspired blogs today. Now, I know I'm entitled to feeling down from time to time, but if I'm going to live a life inspired by the existence of a loving and saving God, I really have no place to wallow in it. I could help myself up by saying things like: It could be worse. N could be in Iraq for 18 months instead of just a three-week overseas stint. I could be shouting after my pre-schoolers from my place on the couch restrained by a neck brace. And at least I have clean running water to take care of that sink filled with dirty dishes whenever I muster the enthusiasm for that task.

But those reassurances are temporary. What I really need, to keep me going for days and weeks that will certainly be peppered with moments of both utter joy and pure misery, are lasting assurances. I need forgiveness. I need hope. I need to believe that someone much greater than myself desires more for me. That I need more than just a "good day." I need to pray my way through the really terrible ones because it's vital that I be an attentive mother, a cheerful neighbor and a devoted servant despite having a case of "the mean reds."

So here I sit, praying for God to reveal my deeper purpose in easily digestible portions today, and I look at these little faces around me. I announce to them that I'll be serving peanut-butter sandwiches for dinner and they instantly smile and cheer. All at once I feel forgiven for my selfish tendencies over the last few days. I feel hopeful about healing for my neck because I know God needs me to care for these small ones by myself for a little longer. And I don't know when, but it will get easier for me to manage all of this sometime soon. Meantime, I'll slog through, not with fake optimism, but with a true sense of purpose however muddied it might look to me right now.