Don't drive disgruntled...

...you might run into a motorcyclist.

Yesterday was a tough one for me. I felt immensely discouraged, but instead of fending off the feeling with prayer, I marinated in it. I was a wreck, and only my husband (who works in the same building as I) could see it on my face. My current job, my career aspirations and some specific aspects of my personal life are at a standstill. I feel as if I have a brain cloud (any "Joe Vs. the Volcano" fans out there?), and I know I'm not breathing properly; I sigh a lot because I'll realize it's been five minutes since I took a decent deep breath. Yesterday I was in physical pain on top of it all, and cried twice during the course of the work day (a rarity). Blah.

No worries, though, it's not as if I had a friend's birthday party to rush to and help set up for -- except that I did. And in my haste to get out of the neighborhood, I pulled up too closely to a motorcyclist at the stop sign and bumped him. I never do anything like that, so it was clearly upsetting. Fortunately, the man I hit was a nice guy who, even though he took my information, reassured me there was likely nothing wrong. Now I REALLY didn't want to go to this party. But I did, and it was a good decision.

I could have stayed home and stewed on the couch, either thinking too much or letting the TV think for me. Instead I spent my evening in the company of eight wonderful ladies who are dear to my heart. A couple glasses of wine, sudden outbursts of laughter, hours of talking, munching on pizza roles -- it was cathartic. So I thank the Lord for a blessing that I was in too much of a hurry to get to, and would have had good reason to miss altogether.