Angry

It's after seven in the morning, America, and I've been awake for over two hours. I've done laundry, cooked breakfast, played with the dog, prayed, and talked with my G.A. I've got twenty minutes until my children come down stairs and join me.

Talidu is currently begging me for a bite of my eggs, onions, spinach, and sweet potato hash. She's whining because she can smell it "so bad" and she "needs it!" I find such comfort in how easily my four legged friend communicates what she wants. I find such sorrow that I am the complete opposite.

I'm angry, America. I shouldn't be. I am so blessed to live where I live, have what I have, to love and be loved in return. I'm blessed beyond what I deserve, and I know it. So many, in other places, are struggling underneath burdens that are miles wider and mountains higher than mine. I know all of this, and I am immensely grateful for what I have. I'm still angry.

My priest says anger is about growth. We can't move beyond our weaknesses, or expose our struggles, if they're never tested. Muscles have to be exercised, in order to become strong. Challenges have to come, in order to learn to overcome. I've got refining to do.

I can't say exactly what needs refined. Peace? Joy? Self control? Gentleness? Goodness? I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting children. I'm tired of a messy house, that is never clean. I'm tired of rudeness. I'm tired of unending noise. I'm tired of illnesses I can't solve.

Maybe that's the straw that broke the camel's back. I hate what is and I desperately don't want it to be.  The "is" could be so much worse. It could be death. It's not death, at least not in a heart-beat type of way. It is a death of dreams, a death of the picture of what was ahead. And in its "death" new life will develop. I know these things. I believe them. I look forward to being able to see how it comes about. I'm still angry.