My bad day… not so bad.

It was a Monday. We (the band) had just returned the night before from a weekend retreat where we led worship for youth. Mondays were always hard after a weekend of playing music because we all return to our “regular” jobs. I had been battling some sinus stuff that weekend and by Monday morning it had turned into a mucous coated sore throat. Sunday night I decided to sleep on our futon so that I would not disturb Rachel with my hacking and I realized by Monday morning that the futon, though pleasant to sit on, makes a terrible bed. Normally I wake up to an alarm clock, however, this morning I woke at 8:00 to a screaming 17 month old who, any other morning, would have slept until 9:30 (I know, some of you parents are thinking ‘8:00? That’s sleeping in. It’s not in our house). Not a good start to the day so far. In the words of Alexander, “I just knew it was going to be an awful, terrible, no good really bad day.”

Throughout the rest of the day I experienced the frustration that comes from instance after instance of things not working quite right. For example… the paper towels were ripping in the middle instead of ripping along the perforation like they were supposed to. My computer worked too slowly. My shoes weren’t both in the same place when I went to put them on. My foot caught the top of the baby gate EVERY TIME I stepped over it. Jadon was in a bad mood (probably because I was) which made things a little more difficult. I found myself trying to rationalize with him while I was making his breakfast. You see… he was crying because he was hungry, but I told him very plainly that when I put him in his highchair, that means he is going to eat soon and he doesn’t need to continue making that annoying sound. It makes perfect sense to me. Anyway, amid the whining I also tried making some business calls which became frustrating due to the fact that I was losing my voice. Then, on top of everything, I was running late all day.
I work part-time for Wells Fargo and I went into work expecting things to go poorly, and they did. My customers were inconsiderate, my boss was critical, and it was really busy (which left me no time to beat my record on Tetris). We ended up leaving work late because of last minute customers and last minute requests from our boss.

There’s this CD series I’m listening to called “From slavery to son-ship” which helps us understand that we don’t have to live like orphans, trying to get everything we can just to survive, but that we have a Father who loves us deeply and is looking out for us. We can just be sons and daughters and live in expectation of the love and provision of our Heavenly Father. As I drove home from work I began using this knowledge against God, saying things like, “I feel like an orphan today! I don’t feel like your beloved son.” “Why couldn’t you make this or that work out for me, I thought You loved me like a son!”

To add injury to insult, during practice that night I had a little argument with my wife. This was doubly frustrating because, not only were we arguing, I had trouble making my point because I was losing my voice. I was really looking forward to this day being over!

At the end of the day, after everyone left and Rachel and Jadon were in bed, I opened up my laptop to check my e-mail. I noticed a message from a good friend asking me to call him and thought ‘It’s odd to get a message from him this late… I hope nothing is wrong.’ My good friend and his wife had finally become pregnant after several years of trying. I found out that night that they had lost the baby. I consoled him over the phone and offered my prayers and thoughts and anything else they would need for that difficult time. I stood up with a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. I walked up the stairs and into my sleeping son’s bedroom. As I looked down at him in his peaceful rest I began to weep. I remembered the words I had said, ‘I feel like an orphan today! I don’t feel like your beloved son.” How could I have been entrusted with such a beautiful life and not be a beloved son? How could I have been given the woman of my dreams, a comfortable home, gifts and talents that I enjoy so much, the list could go on… and feel like an orphan?
I am a beloved son. I don’t think it’s wrong to feel frustrated. It’s an honest reaction. I hope, for me, that I will not allow my frustration to get in the way of taking care of the orphaned hearts God has placed in my life.