"P" Is For Pity Party

Have you ever gone to a pity party where you were the guest of honor?

In 1987 we moved to Manassas, VA, with our three children, ages thirteen, seventeen, and eighteen.  My husband had been self-employed in Meyersdale, PA, but economic conditions were quite severe for us. 

My parents and all my four brothers, my uncle, his wife and children had moved to Virginia a number of years before that because of negative economic conditions in PA as well.  We had been praying and standing on God’s promises to provide for us and give us direction about finding work for Dave.  

One Friday we got a phone call from my first cousin, saying his boss had put a note in the envelope with his paycheck asking if he knew anyone else from PA who was looking for a job, because he wanted to hire people with a good work ethic.

So Dave called my cousin's boss and was hired over the phone that same Friday evening.  We rejoiced for God’s answer to prayer and His provision.  It all happened so suddenly, and I wasn't prepared.

Over the weekend I washed his clothes, helped him pack, and made arrangements for him to stay with one of my brothers and his wife in VA.  With the plan that Dave would come home every Friday evening, he left with his suitcase on Monday morning, and I was left home alone with three teenagers and a house with a coal furnace for heat. Good thing I had learned to fire the furnace!  But I cried as I hugged him “goodbye.” He put his suitcase and some food I had fixed for him into the car, backed out of our driveway and drove off into the unknown.

And I was invited to a pity party.

A year after we moved to Virginia we started going to the same church as my parents and four brothers.  They all had their circle of friends, while I felt adrift from the moorings of our home and affiliations in Pennsylvania.  I had been heavily involved in Women’s Aglow, and was President of the Somerset Chapter for a year.  I was looked up to in my community and at Indian Lake Christian Center where we had attended church.  I taught Sunday School and was involved with the women of the church.  Dave was on the Board of Elders, ran the sound system and tape ministry.  In Virginia, nobody but my family knew my name.

More than once, after church on Sundays, my brothers and parents invited us to join them as they all made plans to eat out together.  But we couldn’t afford to join them.  

And I was invited to another pity party.

I fought tears as we drove home where I would make lunch for the five of us.  I remember times I would seethe with resentment that the meal it took me an hour to prepare for the family was wolfed down in less than ten minutes.  More resentment followed as each family member would disappear downstairs to play computer games, or go to the living room to watch TV, leaving me to clear the table, put away the food, load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen. 

So I was invited to a BIG pity party – with me as the guest of honor.  A regular blow-out – and I don’t mean candles!  Sometimes I’d retreat to our bedroom, shut the door, and play the part of a tearful martyr.  Poor me.  Who cared about me?  Nobody – it seemed.  I wanted my husband – or somebody – to come ask me what was wrong.  To notice that I was very upset. 

Have you ever been to a party like that?  What a drag!

I remember another pity party.  By this time, our two oldest children had found jobs as well, and the next Christmas they and my husband came home from work, each holding a bonus check.  I felt I had nothing to show for my work.  I remember the searing emotions that welled up in me along with my tears.

(Oh, don't sit there so self-righteously.  Do you mean to tell me you've never gone to a pity party? Seriously?)

Thank God for the power of the Holy Spirit in my life.  He gently reminded and helped me to change my attitude.  I give Joyce Meyer's teaching tapes and books a lot of credit for helping me see my stinkin’ pity parties had no place in the life of a victorious Christian.  It was bearing rotten fruit.  A stinking attitude.  A sour disposition.  Silence and withdrawal as I “suffered” alone.

Attending a pity party is dangerous; it will kill your joy.  And if you have no joy, you will be without spiritual strength.  You won't feel like singing, praying, or reading the Word of God.   

Dear reader, if you have fallen into the pit of self-pity, ask God to help you to leave the pity party.  I encourage you to take a sheet of paper and a pencil and begin to list all the things you have to be thankful for.  Focus on them and begin to thank God for those things.  “Give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (I Thessalonians 5:18, NIV)  He will show you the banquet table of rich food He has for you.  That’s the grace of God at work in your life.  Aren’t you thankful?  I know I am.

Copyright © 2013 Elaine Beachy