Before the house wakes I gingerly shimmy out of bed, tip-toe into the kitchen, trying to step around the creaks and toy cars, to make my cup of decaf. I sigh, every single day, in remembrance of caffeine and it’s magical ability to take the edge off of morning and myself. I let nostalgia pass as I pour my hazelnut coconut milk creamer and give thanks that the aroma is the same and that I have warm drink to nurse on the balmy back patio. I take a book, a Bible, a journal and a pen. I take my tired self and sit and wake and wait on the day. I take my cares and concerns and put them on paper and send them off in prayer. On the back patio with my decaf, I let things come and I let things go.
Just as I make the same coffee every morning, I find that . . .
I’m not so sure why it’s so easy to cast our attention on what we do not have, rather than what we do have? On the problem and all that is going wrong rather than what is good and right. And I’m not really talking about things here. I’m talking more relationally and maybe a little metaphorically. I suppose I’m talking somewhat about “should haves.” Not an entitled, “I should have this or I should have that.” But a “By this point in life I should have gotten to where I thought I’d be. I should have that relationship mended. I should have someone to share my life with. I should have a father, a mother, a husband, a best friend.”
I think it’s easy to put our attention on what we don’t have because . . .
I wonder what you would think if I told you that gratefulness looks a lot like seeing? Like looking. Like noticing. Like remembering.
I’ve always confused it with a “doing.”
But it’s not a “do.” It’s a “be.”
Have you ever noticed the wording?
I get the two confused often. I make almost everything into a “do.” A work. A chore. A check off my list.
On growth feeling like a never ending process that is taking you nowhere….
Read on, lovelies!
Sometimes I feel I have nothing to offer. Not even as a mother. My voice feels small. Lost in all the noise. And I think, “Should I even speak?” “Is it a waste of breath?” “Of space?” I know it sounds dramatic, but I know some of you feel the same way, think the same things, which is why I’m adding to the noise, waisting my breath, taking up space.