This morning was one of those mornings where I profoundly felt the limitations of time and space. You know, when you have about 1,000 things you’d like to accomplish within the time frame of about 60 seconds. My mind was running away, and yet not even Einstein could have shrunk the space/time dimensions that would allow my physical being to keep up. Slamming the skillet on the stove to make my special fat burning pancake, I started in on a self-pitying rant to God.
“I’m tired of doing the same thing every morning ,” I complained, turning toward the coffee pot. “I have to make breakfast, make G’s lunch, get….”
And that’s as far as God let me get before he broke into my thoughts. Apparently, the Almighty One who holds heaven and earth together in his hands did not have time or patience for self-indulgent whining this morning. I don’t blame Him.
Very clearly and succinctly I heard Him say to my heart, “You need to be grateful that you are able to get up and do the same thing day in and day out.
All of the routines in your life are a gift.
There are people getting up this morning whose lives have been torn apart, people who would give anything to be able to get out of bed and make breakfast for their family.
Get over yourself and get to work.
We’ve got stuff to do!!”
The message hit home. God was right, He always is. I need to be grateful for the ordinary days and treasure each and every one of them that I have.
A little later, as I watched my oldest climb up the steps (two at a time) to the “big school”, I was filled with gratitude for the beautiful and precious gift that is this sweet boy. I prayed to God again, not complaining, but thanking him for my sweet little boy. I prayed that God would help me work to preserve his innocence, that he would keep his warm and caring heart even into adolescence and beyond.
Then, I thought of the other one. My wild warrior child sitting at home eating, most likely, his 3rd Popsicle of the morning before Daddy awakes. I gave thanks to God for this little indomitable spirit. I prayed that as he grows older, God would give him something noble to fight for.
And then I thought of my husband, still asleep in bed. I gave God thanks for him—for the ways in which he works to support our family that largely go unnoticed and unrecognized by me. I so respect and admire the wonderful pastor that he is and I prayed for his ministry and that I may be a true helpmate to him.
When I truly stop and consider my life, I realize that I can be nothing but grateful. And I am grateful that I am a child of the One God who, despite his vastness and his holiness chooses to enter into my daily life and continues to work in me.
Blessings and Peace,