It couldn't have come at a worse time...

...dear Elizabeth's post (Nitty Gritty Rhythm).  In it she details how in opening her schedule to God, humbly, it all worked out.  I read, transfixed...and feeling horribly sorry for myself.  Soccer and skating season collided with a semi-disabled husband (as in, if he sits and does nothing, he's relatively OK, if he does much of anything, he pays dearly) and an anxiety ridden wife, new schooling ways and the loss of friends and family who can help ... and I am left spinning and shaking in my boots.  This weekend is particularly impossible, and to top it off I'm sicker than I've been in awhile, and I have to stay away from my dh and try to keep the kids healthy so he doesn't get sick. Among other things.

So I read Elizabeth's post, and it hit me hard.  "Great, another person prays and their needs are met, better than they expected.  Hello God, are you really there? For me? I understand you are there for others, but me? I pray and talk to you constantly ... where's my hour at Starbucks? Where are my friends? My help?  You? Where are You?"  Sigh. Woe. More Woe. (And the voice of Archie Asparagus going through my head - "Where's MY waterbuffalo! We're going to get letters!")

And then, gently the Holy Spirit must have reminded me that I was not taking Elizabeth's Best Advice Ever: Keep Your Eyes On Your Own Work.  God gently nudged, "You are not her.  Your needs are not her needs.  Is your husband gone often?  Your son? When a virus goes through your house are 10-11 people vomiting? No?  She needs what I gave her...and you don't.

If you *did* I would have given it to you. Trust me."

Dear Elizabeth, your post couldn't have come at a better time.  I needed God's gentle rebuke today.

Thank you. Seriously.