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A few weeks ago I began a wonderful study of Titus 2:3-5 using a guide entitled, God’s Priceless Woman.  How my heart yearns to be a godly older woman, and how I wonder if I’ll ever get there!

Take the other day for example.  My girls were invited to a birthday party for one of the workers at the library, and I was volunteered to bring muffins and monkey bread.  Being the proud owner of a CHAMP Kitchen Center and K-TEC Grain Grinder ~ I knew that my contribution would not only be good, but good for you (boy, was I in for a surprise).

I woke up earlier than usual that morning, had my quiet time with the Lord, then headed for the kitchen to begin making my masterpieces. 

(I skipped my shower for now, thinking I would have plenty of time before our family devotions at 8:00 a.m.).  

There I was in the kitchen ~ grinding my wheat, pre-heating my oven, and preparing the mixtures for my baking.  I was feeling just like the "Urban Homemaker" herself.  While I was in the middle of my mixing, my husband came into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee, my daughter came in to do her morning chores, and they both attempted to engage me in idle small talk.   Couldn’t they see I was busy?  Time was ticking, and I had more important things to do than stand around and visit with my family (or did I?).   As soon as I shooed them out of the kitchen, I got back to business ~ stir the muffins, mix the dough, melt the butter, and mix the sugar and cinnamon ~ everything had to be ready on time.   Thinking of the time, I looked up at the clock and noticed that it was already time for family devotions. 

"I’ll be there in a minute," I called, hurrying to pour my muffin batter in the pan so they would be baking while I joined my family (who were now waiting for me at the table) for devotions.  As I poured my batter into the muffin cups, I noticed that something strange was floating around in my fresh, made from scratch, good-for-you, banana muffins.  No problem, I thought, I’m sure they will dissolve during the baking process.  Time was ticking.  My husband and children were now glaring at me for not joining them on time, and I suddenly realized that my beautiful whole wheat dough (that I was planning to use for the monkey bread) would need another hour of rising and baking before it would be ready to be carried anywhere. 

At this point, everything turned from bad to worse.  My husband was now standing over me, my kitchen was a mess, my girls had to be at the library in 30 minutes, I still needed a shower, I made my family miss morning devotions, my husband didn’t get his breakfast . . . and I was still wondering about those little white blobs in my fresh, good-for-you baked banana muffins. 

Something was not right here.  This was not the picture of a successful urban homemaker.

All I could do was just stand there.  I didn’t even know what to say. 

I looked at my daughters who needed a pastry to bring to their party,

I looked at my husband who had to go to work without breakfast or family devotions, and I looked at myself, not showered, still wearing my nightgown, having just wasted two hours preparing something that amounted to nothing, and I felt like a fool.

So, I stopped what I was trying to do, looked into the eyes of my husband, and began to make excuses.  Maybe I needed to slow down a bit, maybe I should give up trying to do it "all", maybe I should settle for just getting by with the basics.  Who did I think I was, trying to change the metabolism of the world by the handiwork of my kitchen?  I was sure I was doomed to domestic failure.

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