Leaving church yesterday, my neighbor asked my daughter to join them for lunch at Cracker Barrel. She ran down to me with big brown eyes and asked to go. Then my neighbor suggested we all eat lunch together.
My stomach started getting all flippy-floppy. Little fingers from mad demonic creatures started to thump on my skull.
“No..” was what I wanted to scream.
My kitchen was a wreck. The house littered in bits of paper (toilet paper) because the dog has found my stash. Laundry. Dear heavenly father — how I hate laundry. And I was behind in my writing for the week.
“Sure, let’s go,” my husband said.
A slight wave of panic inched across my face. My neighbor standing two pews away in the emptying church said — “Come on. Don’t want to hear anything about stress…”
I swallowed the panic monster down deep and breathed. “Okay.”
~~~~~~~~~
We got to Cracker Barrel and I ordered Chicken Fried Steak because it makes me think of college and Texas. When I didn’t worry about gaining weight or stress about not handling a household of WILD CHILDREN.
The food was great. It was awesome talking with my dear neighbors whom I never see. Letting our kids play. Losing at checkers to my 7 year old.
As we were leaving I hugged my friend. “Thank you for not letting me bug out.” Was all I said, but I felt so much more.
Sometimes getting out of bed to go to church, then going out to eat — is good. To slam that stress monster flat and flippn’ step on his face.
Try to mess with me. Take my happiness.
Though it took yanking me… kicking and screaming.
In my mind.
