I've been waxing eloquent in my head about a post that I was going to deliver to you right here on this web interface tonight. It centered on the importance of the little things in this season, little drummer boys and little match girls, little kindnesses and little babies in mangers and that's the true meaning of Christmas, Charlie Brown.

But then I fell off the grumpy ladder and hit every rung on the way down.

I don't know what has gotten into me in the last couple of days. Perhaps I am absorbing my students' finals stress or perhaps I am just malcontent here in the month of December where I cannot plan my outfits because by mid-day I am still sweating like a piglet singing opera.

These feelings of agitation are unwelcome, but I am choosing to live authentically through this season. I will not fabricate feelings of joy or manufacture a pocket full of mirth. If we are being really honest here, I do not think the mother of our Lord and Savior was all that ecstatic to be nine months preggos riding a donkey when her husband had not even so much as booked a hotel on in advance. Oh, but I kid.

On a serious note, though, we've been at this life in Tennessee for about half a year. Loverpants and I feel very hog-tied committed to our ministries at home and our ministries at the college. We are generally happy here even though our friend circle and our closet space and our entertainment channels have been downsized.

I would be lying, however, if I said that doing the Lord's work and being a part of a spiritual community can really be quite the ticket to Grumpville, population 1. I have had some conversations with God and other people in recent weeks where I have not had a right spirit.

But the Lord knows. He knows our weakness and He knows when, against the backdrop of twinkling stars and bright holiday lights, the flame in our heart is growing dim.

I need revival. I need to know that I am just passing through Grumpville. Like a cold stable, this is no place to camp for long.