Kicking and Screaming

I did not want to go to mass yesterday. I mean, I seriously DID NOT want to go. I was hot, grumpy, tired, lazy, and I procrastinated until literally the very last minute before finally getting ready to go. And by "get ready" I mean a quick wash of my face, pulling my hair into a messy ponytail, throwing on whatever was clean, and running out the door with 15 minutes to get to our church which is 20 minutes away.

I begrudgingly drove to church, wishing I could have finished watching Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, which I didn't really care about at all but at least it would have meant staying home. I snuck into church, slipped into a seat next to Steve (who looked disapproving, yet not surprised), and sulked. Why oh why did I have to go and marry the youth minister of all people?!

After I resigned myself to the fact that I was there and that it didn't kill me, I sucked it up and got over myself. I ended up actually enjoying the homily and even sang, clapped, and danced a little as they played one of my favorite songs at the end of mass. Steve turned to me and said, "See? Aren't you glad you came to mass?"

Whatever, dude. I mean, yeah, I got something out of it. And of course I don't like not wanting to go to church. But the truth is, it's just where I'm at right now. And until I figure out how to change it, then I'm going to have days where I literally have to drag myself to mass. In fact, that's probably exactly why God gave me a youth minister husband...because He knew I needed someone to annoy me keep me in check.