This week I have felt burned out on life thus inducing a crankiness not caused by my menstrual cycle (although, don't think I haven't used Aunt Flo as an excuse). Basically, life just hasn't gone my way. A couple of things fell through this week even though I crossed my fingers for close to 20 hours straight, waited for the clock to turn 11:11 to shout up a prayer and nearly pulled out all my eyelashes so I could make a wish on them. Now I sit hear behind this computer screen with no eyelashes, cramped fingers and a little bit of gas--but that's from the tacos last night.
After my initial reaction of pitying myself and wondering where my stinking happy ending was, I was thankfully pulled back to reality by a good friend of mine. This friend cares so much about me -- or maybe just wanted me to stop bitching and moaning....I'm not sure which. But regardless of the reason, she helped me find proper prospective. I think a lot of my stress stems from thinking that my way for my life is what's best. I mean that sounds reasonable to most, right? To decide your own fate. To control your own life. To determine your own destiny.
But, where do you let God fit into your life's plan? Is Jesus merely a reason to get presents at Christmas; a prayer around the dinner table; or a lifeguard you only talk to when you feel like you're drowning? Time and time again I tell myself to let God take the steering wheel of my life and to let my own expectations and desires take a backseat. But BAM...when something doesn't go my way, I immediately think God is wrong and my tunnel vision sets in. Go figure, but I tend to favor when things go how I planned...not always how God planned.
When you trust in Jesus as I have, you have to realize that a man that walked on water, turned water into wine and oh yeah, RAISED FROM THE DEAD (didn't want to leave that part out) probably has a better idea than a girl who has had to turn her underwear inside out because she failed to do her laundry. If we always got our way, I would be living in a magical house where dishes were never dirty, Huck spoke in a British accent, Neiman's stocked my closet and four concubines in furry nighties served beer on tap on request (that one would be Buckethead's wish...not mine).
So my reminder to myself and to you this week is, remember to make the best out of what God has given you and allow him to use your situation to pave the way for everything else he has in store for you.
Have a great weekend, ya'll!