I've been consumed with crankiness as of late. Nothing makes me happy. I dislike homeschooling, travelling, slim pickings for breakfast and squabbling, rambunctious children.
I dread waking up in the morning only to start a new round of assigning chores and school work. And thus, the problem is likely to be me.
Disheartening.
I would, in fact, love for my evil moods to be someone else's fault. Except for one thing: the chance for improvement would lie solely within someone else's realm. Dependent. Another word I dislike.
And so, I do what I would do for my children. I gently coax the offender down for a nap and begin anew upon awakening. Limiting blame, but redirecting myself towards the desired behavior. Hopefully it works better than housebreaking small dogs.
If that fails, I'll meditate on my reading last night. Christ did not conquer death that I would forever dwell in my sorrow and anger. He died and rose that I would live in triumph and abundance. Thanks be to God for second, third and fourth chances.
