RRROOOAAARRR!!! (and no, i do not mean rawr)

Or maybe it should be GGGRRR!!! Or that mad/psycho hissing sound cats make. I dunno. All I know is I'm frustrated. With myself. With the girls. With Just (though not really-mainly when he gets upset because he thinks I'm frustrated with him, though sometimes I AM just plain old frustrated with him...). But I think mainly with myself. I'm reading "Because He Loves Me" by Elyse Fitzpatrick with a fantastic group this summer. And I hate the book. I hate it's simplicity. I hate the simple fact that it's telling me about Christ's love. I hate the fact that I have to be reminded. And the book is not a reminder. It is a neon post-it on a black chalkboard. It is really a fantastic book. She writes well (and believe me, I would know. I'm going through English 202 with Justin and we are currently reading "America's Worst Best Essays"). Extremely well. But it's hitting too close to home.
When the girls are crying or screaming I don't want to be loving. When Justin has put off his homework again I don't want to be patient or supportive. When he's tired from going to school at 7:15 am Monday through Thursday I don't want to be the one to take care of the girls, make sure they do their chores, don't burn down the house, survive the day and still have something for him to eat when he gets home from work. When one of the girls wants to go to the other house because I'm mean and expect something out of her (instead of waiting on her hand and foot or completely ignoring her until she's starving) I'm tired of trying. It's been two years. Get over it.
But we're called to be loving. Not just because we're told to. But because no matter what we're feeling about them, Christ has felt so much more sorrow, so much more irritation (a justified, righteous, holy irritation, I'm sure). And He never stops loving. He doesn't yell because He's angry (yes, I am aware that He DOES get angry. But He doesn't act nearly as retarded as we do when we're mad). He doesn't howl and shout "Not Fair" when an injustice is done to Him.
So I plod on. And I ask forgiveness. From God, from the girls, from Just. And from myself. I'm not perfect. Won't ever be. So all I can do is remember (in Fitzpatrick's words) "...If you neglect to focus on God's love for you in Christ, your Christianity will soon be reduced to a program of self-improvement...[true Christianity is] an acknowledgement that something more than self-improvement is needed. What's needed is death and resurrection:gospel words, gospel constructs, gospel motives, gospel power-a loving Redeemer". And He loves me enough to deal with even grumpy me. So I should probably leave my pity-party and go talk to my husband. Maybe apologize...