Propped on the couch with a thermometer in my mouth and a cup of hot tea on the coffee table, I watch the downpour.
My plans for this week before the kids return to school are pretty much gone. All I can manage to do is sleep between bouts of coughing. Ugh.
Not what I had in mind at all. This week was supposed to be super-productive. We have a house to pack. In a month or so, we are moving. Not far, but still … the house has to be packed.
If I were God, I would have given me super-human health this week. I'd have so much energy. And I'd have amazing discernment. I'd know how to delegate tasks like an organizational ninja. And I'd be so much fun that our children would love working with me.
But it's raining hard. The yard is turning to mud. And I'm sick. I'm not very fun. And I'm not God.
I'm tempted to blame myself, to pity myself. I've said, "I'm sorry," to my husband more times than he or I can count.
He's great. He's fixing meals, bringing me tea, cleaning the house, doing laundry. Really amazing. He's God's gift to me. God's grace.
I know this. But my list is still taunting me and getting longer the more I think about it.
I'm reading in 2 Corinthians right now. I've finished one of my favorite passages, one that gives meaning to our suffering. And now I read this little jewel.
For our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience,
that we behaved in the world with simplicity and godly sincerity,
not by earthly wisdom but by the grace of God, and supremely so toward you.
By the grace of God. I pause, pray, and let the word slide from my head to my heart.
What would it look like for me to really walk by the grace of God?
To understand that all is gift? To view every situation with wide-eyed wonder?
To tease out thankfulness when the downpour turns the yard to mud?
And from my perch on the couch I read directions as Piper punches out the cardboard game board and sorts through sheep and fences and cities and houses.
Although there is so much I need to do, this is what God's given me for today. The rain slacks and the sun glints through gray. God's ways are not our ways. I thank God for the pause and walk by grace … for now.
I'd love your prayers for me and my family. And I'd love to pray for you. Please let me know by commenting or by email, firstname.lastname@example.org, how I can pray for you.