Don’t you think sometimes that life is all about things not working out the way you think they will?
We talked all day of getting to bed early last night because we were both so tired and so in need of an extra hour or two of rest. We had all of these plans but still managed to get there late.
Then, this morning finds us sleepy and scratchy eyed and praying for endurance. Little girls took turns waking up through the night and were uncharacteristically hard to settle. Our bed was filled with flailing little arms and sharp knees and sleep was elusive for all. Coffee was gratefully received as we rose before the sun and got ready to take on the day.
This happened mostly, I think, because I made the mistake of saying aloud, “I’m so glad they’re good sleepers.” Anytime you think you’ve done something right in parenting…the children do their best to make sure you remain humble about it.
I’ll be looking ahead to nap time with great expectation today.
Oh, but life is good. Through sleepy eyes I open my Bible and thank Him for daily bread…for the morning…for making it to the halfway point with our little Nora safe and sound so far. I wanted to choose crankiness and Poor Me this morning but you know what…I don’t think I will. There’s too much to thank Him for.
Luke showing me his drawing of a light house and his description, “I made a lighthouse…far away from the world and the water.”
Sam and Claire hugging and dancing instead of fighting and crying.
Aubrey chasing Claire through the living room and the laughter of both.
And so much more. It’s so easy to choose complaining. It’s so easy to choose discontent and frustration. And we’re all human. We’re going to fall apart some days. But I think maybe it’s just as easy to choose thankfulness.
I’ll probably have to make the decision many times today. It’s not a one time deal. It’s a process. A process of learning to see the beauty in the day to day. A process of learning to laugh at your circumstances. A process of learning to surrender your own wants and desires and being fully present in the moment. A process of using those fresh mercies that God offers new and beautiful every morning.
Claire is beside me, touching my coffee cup. “Hot?” she says. “Coppee?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “It’s hot coffee.”
“I want coppee.” she says. “And candy.”
And I laugh. I say no, but I laugh.
His grace is sufficient this sleepy morning.