Day 7-The Inconvenient Truth

I'm ashamed to admit that there are many days when sitting down to read books with my kids feels inconvenient. Helping them with a request is an intrusion into my daily routine. Sitting down to color or play or build keeps me from doing something...more important. As a mother, that truth about myself is an admission of the biggest kind of failure.

Delving into my thoughts on the use of time last week was just the tip of the ice burg. It was eye-opening to realize that in all my busyness to accomplish things with my allotted time, I was really wasting that most precious commodity. But the conviction didn't stop there. This was not just an issue of overlooking God's gifts to me in my daily haste. It was also an issue of my attitude toward those things and people who alter my plans. How much more awful it has been to realize how deep my selfishness goes. I pour out frustration rather than thankfulness when I feel my time, MY time, isn't being used well. But not only that...I pour out frustration on the things, and especially the ones, who get in my way. The truth about my heart is ugly.

I sat playing with daughter in the playroom Friday. It was fun! We laughed, and I was content. Then I was overwhelmed with the realization that, all too often, rather than truly enjoying these moments, I had to consciously suppress impatience. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought back tears. Even as we walked out the door together to cross the street to the preschool, these emotions of failure continued to flood over me.

And then, the dreariness of that overcast day was literally broken wide open with a burst of sunlight from behind the clouds. It poured over us, shining bright and golden and lighting the dark spaces of tree shadows on the grass, and my heavy heart was glad with thanks.

Deliberately making time for those moments was only half the equation. I could spend every waking moment with my children to the exclusion of all else, dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piled on the couch and crumbs littering the floor, but neither of us would be blessed by that interaction if I was seething inwardly with selfish ingratitude. I needed to go into every moment with a thankful heart. I not only needed a proper view of time but a fuller understanding of the way God uses people in my life...and the knowledge He might be pleased to use me in theirs. Then with all that enough time, as Ms. Voskamp calls it, I would not only fully take hold of God's gifts but also fully appreciate His means of grace to me.

How deep is the Father's love for me, an undeserving sinner, that He continues to heap blessing upon blessing into my life? Thank you, Lord, for shining light into my dark heart, for revealing the depth of my ingratitude and the hope of grace in Christ! Thank you for the sunshine and for my daughter's laughter. Make her into the woman I wish I was!

151) the additional half hour of sleep
152) the banter overheard between brothers
153) the clopping on wood of too-big shoes on little feet
154) the fingers brushing my cheek in a good-morning caress
155) the ring, once dull-finished, becoming more golden with age
156) the dimples at the back of my baby's chubby elbow
157) the tiny, inquisitive hand searching my face in exploration and familiarity
158) the ties that turn boys into handsome little men
159) the twisted tree standing alone in a field
160) the flowers dotting the barren landscape of the veteran's cemetery with color
161) the sun shimmering across the New River
162) the hay bales, round and big and orderly stacked against the pasture fence
163) the wise words of a godly woman
164) the tea bag brought from home to church by my husband for my refreshment
165) the voices in unison raising the chorus "Alleluia, grace like rain pours down on me"
166) the stained glass flower, mosaic of translucent color, on the sanctuary wall
167) the small town in which we reside, homey and familiar
168) the two sisters, playing and giggling together happily
169) the two pairs of feet hanging off the couch, one big, one small, side by side
170) the amateur wrestling match between father and son
171) the sweet smell of brown sugar permeating the kitchen
172) the old, claw-foot bathtub, reminiscent of my Grandma's house and nautical, whale-papered bathroom
173) the aroma of fresh-baked oatmeal bars
174) the weary child, heavy with approaching slumber, in my arms
175) the father and daughter gleefully whirling together in dance