Isn't there irony in teaching a lesson in forgiveness on the very day that you need to humbly ask someone to "Please ignore that 3-year-old tantrum and be my pal again?"
That happened to me on Sunday. I actually had two lessons to teach, compliments of an additional duty as leader of Children's Chapel. That lesson was on love.
Doubly whammy between the eyes, to say the least.
I truly love how God has this gentle but extremely effective way of calling us back to reality. Back to the fold. Back into line.
It's kind of like Johnson's Baby Shampoo--it's mighty effective at getting rid of the grime but, at the same time, it doesn't sting your eyes. God calls out the yuck in our lives without causing us too much pain, if we are listening.*
I managed to make it through both lessons and ask for forgiveness before noon. Of course, I was a raving lunatic later in the day, so I had to do it all over again.
And this is where you understand that my husband is a saint at times. He patiently waits for me to realize "WOWWEE. I am being a horse's rump." Like God, he doesn't demand an apology or give me the cold shoulder or pop me upside the head and say "WAKE UP!"
I love you, Mike. I am blessed beyond comparison to have you in my life. Thank you for forgiving me all my faults and sins and PMS.
And, even when those times of episodic psychosis set in, you are the rock on the shore, waiting for my boat to come back to land.
I can truly say that you are proof to me that God does exist. And that He, like you, loves me very much.
*Of course, I rarely put two-and-two together in the moment and, more often than not, have to be hit upside the head with the lesson. To say the least, this was a gentle tap compared to most.