Uninvited

One of my kiddos was invited to something via electronic invitation.  When I got the invitation in my email inbox, I clicked the link to take me to the invitation, but since we had talked about possibly not being around that day, I did not RSVP.  This morning, after having discussed the matter and deciding that yes, the kiddo would be around to attend the thing, I clicked on the link to take me to the invitation again.  And again.  And again.  Because this time, I got, instead of the invitation, an error message.  Then again, and again.

Now I know that the most likely explanation is that this particular invitation website is experiencing technical difficulties.  But do you know where my mind went first?  My mind told me that my kiddo had been uninvited.  That the mama had invited more people than could be accommodated, and the number she could include had already responded, so my kiddo was out.  Or worse, that my kiddo was invited mistakenly in the first place--that this mama had never meant to invite him.

Why does my brain do that?  Seriously.  It's (most likely) just a website glitch.  But I take it personally.

Right now I'm reading Uninvited by Lysa TerKeurst, and it's a good thing I am.  'Cause here's the subtitle: Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely.  I'm only a few chapters in, but already the book has challenged me to be aware of how my perceptions, which may or may not have any basis in reality, affect my feelings, which in turn affect my attitudes, which in turn affect my actions.  Good stuff.  It's so easy, and I am so quick, to immediately assume the worst--but life would be a lot easier if my default was to assume the best.  Of others and myself.

I emailed the mama to accept the invitation, and I hope to high heaven that it really is just a glitch.  In the meantime, I keep repeating to myself, "it's just a glitch, it's just a glitch, it's just a glitch."  Maybe if I tell myself enough times, I'll believe it.