Psalm 92 "A psalm. A song. For the Sabbath day. It is good to praise the Lord and make music to your name, O Most High, to proclaim your love in the morning and your faithfulness at night to the music of the ten-stringed lyre and the melody of the harp. For you make me glad by your deeds, O Lord; I sing for joy at the works of your hands. How great are your works, O Lord, how profound your thoughts!"
Friday, August 28, 2009
Day 28: Are We There Yet?
11 days, 2 hours, 22 minutes... but who's counting?
Feeling a little antsy today. I couldn't sit down with my family for dinner. It all looked too good. Which I guess is my own fault. I mean, I'm the one who cooked. I just kept myself busy with serving the kids and cleaning up the kitchen and then packing up the leftovers. I ate afterward. Something about eating rice and edamame for the 56th time, (No, really. Do the math.) when the rest of the family is eating steak, potatoes, fresh veggies and french bread. It's like going to the Louvre with your art class to do some sketches and breaking out the 24-pack of Crayolas. Doesn't quite measure up.
My 5-year old asked me, "Do you still have Pick Five?" When I answered him yes, he looked frustrated. "You should just give that away. Someone else can have Pick Five." Well, today I would have agreed.
But, as I look back on these past four weeks -- wait, let's just take a moment here. FOUR WEEKS. You with me? Okay. Now back to the previously scheduled sentence -- I have come to realize that I have felt this way at the end of each week. Friday brings a Pick Five depression of sorts. It's the mounting of the week's responsibility and vulnerability and irritability all wrapped tightly into a TGIF doggie bag. And it starts to stink. And yet by Sunday, I'm usually doing markedly better. But wait -- that means that Saturday must be special. Oh yeah, it is.
So, bring on the Sabbath. Bring on the rest and peace and time of refreshing. 'Cause I need it. Bad.