I had hoped to post here about our monthly meeting topic of Rigor. Unfortunately, we were hit by the stomach flu and missed the discussion, which I heard was wonderful.
We also had a dead rat, discovered by its lovely stench, that had been festering in the wall behind our downstairs bathroom removed this week. A lovely complement to the smell of throw up upstairs, and to top it all off, my sewing machine broke.
Don't we all have times like these?
I could add so many other things to the list of wrongs - things that, were I to indulgently contemplate them fully, could really, REALLY get to me.
And while at times I do go down that ugly road, Charlotte's words from our topic of Joy ring true, and are worth repeating here:
'But how can I help it?' That is really a foolish question about any of the evils we may fall into. Of course we can help them, and to do so is the battle of life. In this particular case the help lies in hurrying away from the thought to think of something else.
There is another class of persons in whom Pity is strong and ever-active ... These are the people who pity themselves. Any cause of pity is sufficient and all-absorbing.
They are sorry for themselves because [insert your list of problems here] or some other form of 'Bo to a goose!'
Such things are not to be borne, and the self-pitiful creature goes about all day with sullen countenance. As he or she grows older you hear of many injuries from friends, much neglect, much want of love, and, above all, want of comprehension, because the person who pities himself is never 'understood' by others.
Self-pity, is an insidious foe. Many people, apparently strong and good, have been induced by him to give up their whole lives to brooding over some real or fancied injury. No tenant of the heart has alienated more friends or done more to banish the joys of life.
It's a choice; my choice where I will allow my mind to dwell.
Naturally, I want to dwell in the frustration of the moment and feel sorry for myself - throw up all over the carpet, the bed, in her hair, her ear - ugh!!! Rotting rat stench - uck!!
Remember that story about John Huss we read in Trial & Triumph? Called a heretic and thrown into a putrid dungeon cell next to an open sewer, headaches, vomiting fits, deprived of his books and Bible, ill and nearly starved, chained day and night, facing execution. He said...
Remember Christ suffered for the sake of his chosen. If my death can glorify His name, than may He give me grace to endure with good courage whatever evil may befall me.
My Lord Jesus wore a crown of thorns for me. Why should I not be willing, for His sake, to wear this?
Self-pity cured; for the moment anyway. And so it goes... helping ourselves from any of the evils we may fall into - it is 'the battle of life'. Is it not this same battle we are equipping our children for?