When Wednesday feels like Monday

Today is Wednesday…all day long.

It's a time-machine Wednesday; one that wants to go back and live like Monday. 

You know Monday: the wake up call that gravity works and that you – if you are fortunate – are heading back to work – usually after a few days of the highly revered "weekend."

Mumbly Monday, Blue Monday, Manic Monday…

A fact: most translations of "Monday" have their origin in "Moon Day"… sort of ironic; a linguistic insult that fails to streak past fast enough.

So how did today get mooned?

I don't quite know, but about 8:00 am CST, several thoughts collided at once and crashed into what was a pretty rockin' Wednesday morning. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed, blew off my quiet time to just one line of text*, and lobbied myself hard to blow off hardcore yoga today.

I lost my keys and then the gymnastics that is getting the key to turn in the side door lock kicked in while the good guys picking up the week's trash parked their truck behind the Vibe and did…something important…for a while.

And by that time, my mood was pretty soured and if you were looking on and not quite sure, my tantrum at the unlocking dadgum door, probably gave hint. (I'm so sorry gentile neighbors.)

Like a lot of other ADHD kids, I'd had my coffee this morning to slow and focus my thinking. Last night, I slept well, had exercised yesterday, enjoyed a tasty Chobani breakfast, drank my water, and sought after the quieting of a God I could not see. So why the reversal from Wahoo Wednesday to Monday-fumblyness?

Heck, I don't know.

Yoga helped, but things went haywire there, too. After the instructor's mic died and the racquetball players pounded on the wall for a bit of fun, a few of us in the back "flipped the dog" and ended up nearly tangling the flipping pack and/or flipping the bird to the whole thing.

Ever an efficiency wannabee, I immediately ran to a 10:00 am meeting in sniffy yoga clothes…and waited for a no-show. The business person did call me back…while I balanced precariously to reach something on a shelf at the grocery store and moments before I learned that my Yahoo account had been hacked…again. 

I know that these are largely first-world problems. Even with perspective, this day was getting out of hand.

Hello Wendesday-Monday.

Curiously, I had a revelation of joy while striding past the toilet paper and towards the Reeses peanut butter eggs.

I get to choose how I respond. I get to choose joy. 

And I don't have to pretend and be pithy or strike a match in the darkness by myself.

I can legitimately ask God to just have his way with whatever comes with the day and to help redeem it.

He can have the circumstances and the sweet spot. 

I just need help in hanging on to truth, the reality that circumvents feelings and circumstances. 

A goofy thought whirled into my muddled brain and wedged itself between the inner-ninja and hopeful fluffy bunniness that is me. I grinned and the person pushing her buggy opposite grinned back.

A serendipitous drive by grinning. It gave a sweet lift.

So lightly lifted, I did NOT grab a big delicious Reeses peanut butter egg (I have a bag at home) and I was able to hang on to that wavering ember of joy.

Past the cash register that broke down while I stood ignoring Tabloid rumors of "The Beibs ENRAGED" or "So-and-so Kissed her Third Cousin", etc.

Through the guy who chewed me out for bagging my own groceries though he only sauntered up after I'd doggone nearly finished.

Over a dog whose yip-o-meter knows no limit, around dropped groceries, in spite of a bonked hip (lookout kitchen island!), and an unhappy meeting with a scurrying squatter in the house.

After the gnocchi and nuts were put away, I picked up the pink Message Bible that had yielded its one verse to me this morning and grinned, because God has a quirky sense of humor.

Check it out
*Ezekiel 36:35
"People will exclaim, “Why, this weed patch has been turned into a Garden of Eden!"

Take heart Friends. This weed patch of our living and Mondays will be turned into a Garden of Eden.

In its own time.