Today is one of those days I either 1) wish I could forget or 2) do over.
Considering that it was a Saturday, a do over seems more acceptable. Especially if my feet hit the floor with all of the hindsight that today’s experiences brought with it. You know…the first time.
I wouldn’t let my frustration build when my son woke me up earlier than normal to tell me that no one was awake to play with him.
I wouldn’t have eaten the eggs that I’m supposed to be cutting out of my diet.
I would have spent more time out on the deck, rather than in the laundry room (although I will admit, the fallout would’ve been a little hard to deal with as I’m switching around the seasonal clothes that have been boxed up for the last six months).
I would have baked some pumpkin bread.
I would have been patient through the miscommunication I had with my husband about something quite trivial.
I would have written this post earlier in the day rather than burning midnight oil. Again.
You get the picture…
But as I reflect on the day there is one instance that has to stand out above the rest. As Henley took blanket after blanket out onto the back patio to build a tent she was adamant about me not disrupting her plans. She kept her head down and her focus on. Probably afraid that making eye contact would cause me to say “you don’t need to be making that mess outside…”
Henley and I don’t always see eye to eye on her “messes.” While I will be the first to admit that she’s the most imaginative child that we have and her creative play far outweighs any I’ve seen…she is a lousy picker-upper. And for those of you who are acquainted with my personality, I’m sure you are all too aware what kind of head butting this causes between us.
Earlier this week I stumbled upon a note I’d written for myself several years ago and stuck on the bathroom mirror. After months of reading it every morning and night it finally lost the adhesive and fell onto the marble counter top.
Without taking the time to rewrite it onto a new sticky, I stuck it in my makeup drawer and forgot about it…for well over a year.
The words I’d written down were these: “When the Lord begins a movement, expect that the enemy will try to sabotage that plan for you.” – Priscilla Shirer
For the longest time these words were incredibly impactful to my spiritual walk. It reminded me that I needed to keep my focus on God because I knew the closer I’d get to the achievement the harder it would be to dodge the bullets.
Henley was focused. Her mind was on that tent and nothing short of me making eye contact and saying “no, put it all away,” would have stopped her.
Yet she teaches me so much. Her determination, while frustrating for our parenting at times, is a gift from God that will serve her well.
How I wish that my determination looked like hers.
Instead, I lost that determination the moment I had to throw off the warm covers to respond to a little boy calling out my name many times so I would “wake someone up to play.”
All before 6:30 a.m.
You guys, I get up at 5:00 a.m. every day. Saturday is that one day of the week where I want to sleep in a bit, do some reading, enjoy my pillow, stare at the ceiling…whatever. I’ve even been known to listen to a sermon as I just relax under the covers before the chaos begins.
I think the word I’m looking for sounds a bit like…leisure. And I wanted to enjoy it!
But in my haste to reclaim what I’d lost I allowed my quiet time with God to be thwarted. And once that ball was in motion it continued to pick up speed all day long.
So as I write this to you now, I’m reflecting over the day as tears dry on my cheeks. Mostly from disappointment in myself. Some from mental exhaustion. Some because I’m cold and too lazy to grab a blanket…
This year has thrown a lot of new things in my path. It’s taken a lot of courage that I don’t have, but that God sends me after my panic-stricken prayers. I called and He answered. Big. And now with the first signs of an attack my knees buckle, I assume the fetal position and feel vexed enough to just hide under the covers all day because I don’t want to deal with the struggle.
I must stay determined to keep my eyes focused on Him – just like my daughter teaches me every single day. And perhaps this is part of His purpose for that determination of hers. Perhaps it’s a lesson to me that I have to be diligent. To take back what is mine through the measure of grace and mercy I am given daily.
Because, all joking aside, how many more days am I going to let the enemy steal?
Today I’m linking up with the following authors to share my story: