After sleeping in we loaded up the kids and headed to Wichita. My husband enjoyed the air show featuring the Thunderbirds of the U.S. Air Force, I visited a friend in the hospital and her family, and the kids got to play with their cousin. Later, we met my son, his wife, and my sister for dinner. Mexican food! (It is always hard to resist Mexican food!) Before we left town, we did a little shopping.
Then, on the way home, I had a breakdown. That's the best way for me to describe it.
I remembered that I needed to do some more preparation for a Sunday School lesson I was teaching the next morning. I remembered that I had scheduled a young teen to serve as worship leader yet I had forgot to help her write the prayer she would be delivering. I thought about my friend in the hospital. I reflected on the many messages that have went back and forth among H.S. classmates regarding one of our own that was killed in a car accident earlier this week.
And I lost it.
Everyone else in the car was sleeping as I drove home becoming more and more agitated with each and every mile.
By the time we got home, I wanted to tear something up. I settled for slamming my office door and crying in front of my computer as I struggled with my own emotions. Why does my friend have to struggle through a long process of recovery? Isn't 41 just too young to die? How was I supposed to apologize to this young lady for dropping the ball? What in the world was I going to say in this prayer that I really needed to write? I didn't have a copy of the worship schedule for the next morning so I didn't even know what scripture we would be discussing.
I churned out something, worked on my lesson for the next morning, and then angrily went to bed and cried myself to sleep.
Morning came too fast.
When I got to the church, I went to a small room to wait for the young worship leader. And I prayed. I prayed for issues I had on my heart and in my mind. I prayed that the young worship leader would accept my apology and offer me grace even though I dropped the ball.
She was the first one in. Her response when I apologized? "No problem."What?! I've been beating myself up about this! Just...no problem. "I wrote my prayer on the way over here this morning."
During the first service I listened to her read the scripture and say her prayer. She was poised and prepared. Her prayer was perfect...just the words that God had laid on her heart through the Holy Spirit.
No problem.
The Sunday school lesson? It went just fine. And it was on "Forgiveness". Why didn't I see the irony in this before I was actually presenting? Why is it so hard to forgive myself for my own short-comings?
No problem.
And the message this morning? Well, of course...it was on prayer.
What made the difference between last night's break down and this morning peace and calm? The few minutes I took to sit alone and connect with God. Prayer.
Instead of praying when it was needed, I prayed when it was convenient. I have the distinct feeling that my night would've been much better if I had spent my drive home praying rather than worrying and chastising myself.
