The Grumpy Train

Every single year around this time I get the blues.  Is it because Christmas is post-mortem and the effort of it wipes me out?  Is it the "back to the grind" feeling of doing the plain hard work of everyday life without the sparkle of white lights? 

Well paint me blue and call me a CareBear!

Case in point:

We went to a newly forming Bible study last night, billed for "couples raising children."  It was an info sort of thing, so they had a few more mature couples share about their marriage.  One very kind, wise, and experienced woman spoke about how she and her spouse work out their differences: for instance, on vacation he likes to read but she likes to shop and explore, so they do these things independently then meet up in the evenings for dinner and entertainment.

Since this is my blog, and not a polished marketing piece for perfect living, I will confess that all I could do was sit there in a fog, chin resting on palm, bleary eyes almost watering from the exhaustion of preparing five kids a healthy dinner, having them rush to finish homework before we left and lay out clothes for school tomorrow and put the dog in the kennel and turn on the alarm and drive over and check each of them into the childcare all by the 5pm start time to the Bible study, only to find it was across the street so we walked in late.  To go to that effort, and feel so wiped out, and to hear about a vacation scenario that will not happen for me for eighteen years was pretty depressing. 

In my head I pleaded: give me some practical info that I can use, or inspire me to keep focusing on marriage in the whirl of parenthood, or something helpful to justify the effort that went into simply being in attendance right now. 


I am SO getting this on the upcoming Disney trip.

So that pretty much illustrates my state of mind. Those married folks are so well-meaning and the fault lies only in how I received their words.  But what can I say?  I've had a headache for five days straight, my pants are too tight, I've put away the toys about a dozen times already today, the just-mopped floor was doused with Gatorade, the car needs servicing across town, the 100 days of school project isn't finished, and all those resolutions like closet cleaning are looming.  I look at the iced tea pitcher on the counter and think that if I don't put it away for the millionth time, then it will sit there and grow dusty because no one else will ever make a move to put it in the refrigerator. (I know I sound ridiculous. No use looking for logic when logic has left the building.)

Of course, God knew this funk was coming on because last week, while squeezing in some reading of a Tim Keller book David gave me for Christmas, I not-by-coincidence stumbled upon this most excellent quote by C.S. Lewis:

Hell begins with a grumbling mood, always complaining, always blaming others... but you are still distinct from it. You may even criticize it in yourself and wish you could stop it. But there may come a day when you can no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticize the mood or even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself, going on forever like a machine. It is not a question of God "sending us" to hell. In each of us there is something growing, which will BE hell unless it is nipped in the bud. 

Just the grumble itself, going on forever like a machine. 

Ouch. That hurts.

Maybe it hurts just enough to pull myself together, make a hot cup of coffee, put away the negativity, and turn the grumpy train around.