Inconvenience and Whining

 This fourth Sunday of Advent fell in a weekend of difficulties, frustrations, and inconveniences. Just the sorts of things that feel like irritating stones thrown into your path, one after another, by God who is trying to do something ... and you're not sure what. 

I said I would not careen into Christmas, but this fourth Sunday of Advent does put that intention to the test. Our Lessons and Carols service at church was at 6:00 last night. This one time each year, I'm in charge of the service, of what happens. Adam gets to sit and enjoy it, which is so good for a pastor occasionally.

But we had a fun and exhausting "big dinner" to attend on Friday night. And farmers market on Saturday morning (and all the labors that lead to that). Cookie baking happened on Saturday, but I was tired, and kept noticing the general slovenliness of the house. I'm waiting to clean until today and tomorrow, but the grime was building up. This irritates me. Adam went back to the school to do classroom work he couldn't do before, from 7:30 - 3:00. He wanted to go back and do more today, but I growled at him and put my foot down. "You are on break!" I said. "We will rest now!" I was saying to myself.

One of my hand chime ladies fell ill and was in the hospital, throwing my musical plans for Sunday night into chaos. I shuffled around and made "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" work somehow, while worrying about her health and feeling guilty that I was even bothered about hand chimes when she was hospitalized. 

I had to practice: 1) a solo with my auto harp (an instrument I'm ill-at-ease on), 2) a duet ("Do You Hear What I Hear?" that I'd arranged and hand-written on staff paper in pencil with many scratches and mistakes, and with only a few words scribbled on the page, scrunched between wonky quarter notes, 3) "O Holy Night," which we'd thrown in there at the last minute, 4) various preludes and the carols, of course.

Then there were candles to put in windows, poinsettias to water, refreshment tables to arrange, holly to snip, more cookies to bake, programs to print and reprint. (How could I make three mistakes in such a simple document?) So Much To Do. And I must do it all with a smile and a happy spirit because I am, after all, the pastor's wife, and I've been doing this for many years, and none of these little difficulties should get to me now. 

But they do. And I have learned self-control over the years to suppress my inner rage at minor inconveniences. Now I simply whine ... at home.

Sunday morning after snipping new holly to replace dead holly in the sanctuary, I suddenly developed a sharp muscle pain in my back, just under my shoulder blade. Adam rubbed it, I took Tylenol, and I went on with my day. But I did ask God, "Really? This childish behavior again from You? We both know you've already got my attention. We both know I have issues with my attitude when things don't go absolutely smoothly. Do you really have to remind me again to slow down and not care so much about the details? I already know that, God!" (I took more Tylenol in the afternoon.)

But I have to relearn regularly to lay down my little idols at His feet and remind myself that they are worthless, lifeless things. Even preparing a worship service can be an idol. All ministry can quickly become an idol because it has the trappings of religion all around it, and it smells and looks like God. But it's not God Himself. It's far too easy to worship the ministry work, and not worship the Lord Himself. As I sit at the piano in the sanctuary week after week (and especially last night), I close my eyes and pray, reminding myself that I'm there to worship too, not just to facilitate others' worship. I disengage my thoughts about what key signature I'm supposed to be in, whether my voice will cooperate, whether this or that song was the best choice; I turn my mind around again to worship. 

Today, we rest.