The Bravest Hospitality

I messed up last week.  I was sitting in my Research Methods class trying to understand terminology that makes my head hurt.  I had been at school since 8:30 that morning and it was pushing 7PM.  I was fighting my second bout of an irritating cough, the first having felled me on Christmas day.  I. So. Don’t. Have. Time. for more sickness. I felt ragged, like someone had wrung me out and then tossed me aside, like a limp, damp dish cloth.

I saw the Voxer message come through on my phone during class and my heart sank.   It dawned on me even before I heard her beautiful, grace-filled voice on the message I had missed my deadline.

I don’t like missing deadlines.  How could I have let this happen?

Of course grace abounds. Of course my friend is kindness and understanding as she extends a do-over, which I gratefully and humbly accept.

All the way home from school I try and go back in my brain to figure out how I dropped the ball?  In my mind I run over my endless “to-do” lists.  My heart begins to beat a little faster and I can feel the anxiety pulsing in my head.

Before I know it all the streetlights and headlights start swimming through my tear-filled eyes.  They come slowly–the tears– just a quiet weeping as the exhaustion I’m feeling finally is released in a wet and soggy mess.  As I’m blinking back the tears, because weeping and driving are not a good combination, I can feel the breath of a whisper in my soul.

I’m over at Grace Table today, won’t you join me over there to continue reading? 

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