Episode #11: The Weekly Mercies of Pam Ellis

 

I had never understood the term waking up on the wrong sideof the bed, but I understood the feeling all too well. Monday had been a wonderful day. After bounding out of bed, I had gone eagerly towork, enjoyed watching a goofy movie with my siblings in the evening, and hadfallen asleep after my bible reading with a smile on my face.

And then my alarm had gone off.

There was nothing about the day that started me off on thewrong foot (another ridiculous saying) but somehow, I still felt like I wasbehind and grumpy about it. One of the passages I read in my mixed plan spokeof gratitude, which made me glare at my mercies notebook. It wasn’t that I hatedthe notebook, I just hated it this morning.

Just like I was irritated with how the black tea tasted.

Just like I was frustrated when I had to get up and show acustomer where a book was on the shelf.

Just like I felt like shouting at the customer who came outof our bathroom to tell me there was a little mess that needed my attention.Forget that it was just water, I wanted to run after the lady and tell her sheshould have the decency to clean up after herself.

I lectured myself sternly as I wiped up the water in thebathroom. Nothing was wrong. Life wasn’t bad. All the things that wereirritating me today weren’t actually a big deal. However, my emotionsstubbornly refused to budge. For some reason, even though I knew in my head allwas well, my heart refused to get the message.

And all of a sudden, I smiled. I remembered how often thisfeeling had been with me in my childhood. I had struggled frequently with abad attitude and my parents had often been at a loss as to how to deal with it.

They hadn’t helped me. I know that is a horrible thing tosay about your parents. Mine had been exceptionally good parents, but somehow,they had thought pointing out that I had a bad attitude that needed to changewould help me.

It hadn’t.

I stopped in the middle of the store as I stood with thecleaning supplies. So why did I think it would help now? Just acknowledging andtelling myself over and over again that I had a bad attitude and needed to changethings wouldn’t help me.

I put the cleaning supplies back into the back room andmoved to check on a customer. As soon as they had left, I rested my chin in mypalm and thought. What had turned the tide when I was younger? Well, that waseasy to remember. I had found the root cause of much of my bad attitude, whichwas a sense of entitlement and discontent. God worked on my heart. My attitude followed.

I sighed. I didn’t have any idea what was causing my heartto feel so down and out of sorts today unless… I did a mental calculation. Ah!Hormones. Not that they always made me feel this way, but they had on occasion.

What was I going to do about it?

I pulled up a list on my phone since I hadn’t decided what Iwould do this week just for the joy of it. I settled on a classic girl choice:I would go and buy something. Other than books, I rarely did shopping for myself.Mostly that was because I didn’t love shopping.

However, sometimes you had to do something different,something fun, to remember that life wasn’t just about your to-do list.

 

After getting a snack and iced tea, I wandered aroundthe craft store for a while. While usually I could load up my cart with thingsI would love, nothing seemed to jump out at me.

I popped into the next store, which was home goods. I meandereddown the aisle and came to paper goods. Pens, notepads, and journals abounded.My eye caught out a wooden box. Well, it wasn’t a box, it was a writing desk. Ipulled it out. It reminded me of the one I had when I was young and writing topen pals. I had loved that little lap desk, but it had been cardboard and hadfallen apart after a couple of years of intense use.

I saw the inside had been filled with a beautiful stationaryset. How long had it been since I had written a letter? Probably when I wasseventeen and the last of my many pen-pals had told me she wouldn’t havetime to write anymore.

What if I started writing letters again?

My decision was made. I took the writing desk up to thecounter and bought it. I decided I would try to write a letter once a week tosomeone. I would start with my own family members, and Ben would get the firstone.

I still felt bad about my outburst toward him, even though Ihad apologized and he had forgiven me. I wanted to do something he could hold so he would know I cared.

 

I looked at my Bible, Mercies notebook, and my bucket liston the floor before me. I was ten weeks into the year and I decided it was time toevaluate what I was doing. Perhaps a day when I had been out of sorts might notthe be ideal time to do such a thing, but I didn’t want to keep blindly doingthe same thing over and over again if it wasn’t helpful.

Now I understood why Joan had suggested the journal. Onewould think that ten weeks is hardly enough time to forget emotions, yet as Isat there, trying to figure out if I had made progress, I wasn’t sure.

I flipped open my mercies notebook. Well, if nothing else,it had to be good for me to keep a record of the good things God was doing inmy life. What were His mercies today?

~ Remembering God’swork in the past that helped me decide what I needed to do to help with my attitudetoday.

~ Remembering funhobbies in the past and bringing them forward to my present.

~ How Jesus has workedin my heart since I was young

~ My new writing desk.