Ever thrown yourself a pity party… complete with cake, balloons, tears and sorrows… the whole fancy catered pity party? We all might find ourselves in that situation from time to time.
Sometimes we just have to tear up the invitation ’cause the party has been canceled. No pity party today we say, even though we are hurting from head to toe… even though we look like the Pillsbury Doughboy and walk like Tim Conway’s “Little Old Man.” We had the party set for today and it was going to be a big splash, only to come to the realization that is not going to happen today. I am going to push through my desire (conscious or unconscious) for people to know just how bad I feel.
I look at the news and find people in much worse conditions than me. I see people in the hallways at the hospitals and doctor’s offices who make my condition seem like a walk in the park. If I am honest with myself I have to scrap the plans for the old party and celebrate who I am and where I am and what I am going through. Easier said than done, but it is needed.
I pray that God will keep me from chronically feeling sorry for myself. I don’t want to be a drain on another’s deep well of compassion. Help me to accept my afflictions, knowing a better day is coming. Turn my self-pity into small acts of service for a neighbor. Let my hug be someone’s comfort, my gentle words lift another’s spirit. Help me to count my endless blessings, one by one, until pity melts into gratitude. In all that I do, use my life to give others a glimpse into (as a dear friend use to say) the heavenly country. This, I know, is my purpose each and every day. Amen
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The Journey 