A Day in the Life of a People-Pleasing, Over-Anxious, Always-Hurried, Caffeine-Fuelled Work-In-Progress

Susan Narjala   |   January 21, 2025 

“Guys, are you ready to leave?”

“Guys??”

“GUYSSS!!”

A bored, disengaged response bounces back from my teens upstairs.

“Why are you yelling? We already said we’re ready.”

I’m pacing in my high heels, clickety-clacking on the marble floor. My heart is racing. My hair is not brushed. But I plan to tame the tresses in the car while the husband drives.

Speaking of the husband, he’s not ready either.

We are already five minutes past the time we had decided to head out.

If he didn’t want to leave at 9 am, why did he say 9 am? He could have just said 9:15 am!!

All he did was get himself ready. I’ve served breakfast, put away the dishes, and taken out the trash. And got myself ready. And I didn’t even bother brushing my hair. That’s how I know to sacrifice for my family so I can be perfectly on time despite everything.

When the kids come down, I express my irritation with their crumpled clothes, the fact that they haven't made their beds, that no one helped me clear the kitchen, and WHY DO I HAVE TO SAY THE SAME THINGS 1000 TIMES BEFORE SOMEONE LISTENS???

My stomach is in knots. A curious mix of self-pity and self-righteous pride surges through my veins—not exactly the optimal combination of emotions when you’re getting yourself ready for church.

But for a people-pleasing, over-anxious, always-hurried Christian like yours truly I would say that a typical start to a Sunday morning. Well, the typical start to any morning, really.

Strike that. Sometimes, it’s not as sanitised a start. There have been occasions when the shrillness of my voice could shatter crystal and my face can look more bloodshot than an Irishman in the winter who has had one too many whiskeys!

By the time we reach the car and settle into our drive, I start winding down. After all, it is Sunday morning.

On the way, my husband asks one of the kids to pray for the day.

Anxiety levels continue to drop.

He turns on the worship music in the car.

Anxiety starts to give way to peace.

By the time we reach church, I’m far less agitated. No one would know my morning avatar ranged from snappy to deranged. No one would guess I might have had a run-in with my dear buddies, self-pity or self-righteousness, that morning.

As God’s Word is spoken in His house, I feel a deep sense of conviction. Not just for my high-decibel words, but for my thoughts which essentially focused on me, myself, and I. But God gently restores me.

When service wraps up, I’m able to join the ministry time and pray with others. There’s an older lady who is struggling with her finances. There’s a young girl who is battling fear. A mom with worries about her children’s future.

Out of this people-pleasing, over-anxious, always-hurried, caffeine-fueled person come God-honouring, full-of-peace, ever-calming, Spirit-driven words.

I know it’s not me. It’s God working in me. It’s God working through me. I’m humbled because, He uses the likes of even me.

Between church service in the morning and settling into bed at night, “life” happened, of course. Snappy Susan surfaced every now and then. But she didn't bite heads off as often or as viciously as before.

As I write in my gratitude journal that night, I’m thankful for my husband and kids who forgive me when I lose the plot. I’m blessed by my church family where I can minister and be ministered to. And I’m in awe of a faithful and good God who chooses to keep working on me despite how often I veer off course. The day ends well as I rest in the arms of my Father. Tomorrow is another day. And He's going to see me through it.

I’m grateful that God works in the heart-transformation business. He doesn’t just "fix" our habits. He doesn’t give us “five ways” to change our lives. He indwells us despite knowing our warts and all. He who began a good work in you is faithful to bring it to completion. Our job is to yield to Him. His job is to change our hearts from the inside out.

 

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

 

 

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When she's not smuggling chocolate past her kids or drinking gallons of coffee, Susan Narjala can be found writing, baking and (thinking about) working out. She grew up in Chennai, lived in Portland, Oregon, for the last ten years and is now back in India with her family. She finds nuggets of humour in the everyday, and writes about it on on her blog, www.susannarjala.com

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