These walls, these messes, the meals the memories. This craft. This rest. The long days and the short. These I offer up. No more to cling on to for control. Open handed I give this- humble worship. My daily actions a sacrifice for Daily Bread. Patience, sacrifices, prayers... all in act of obedience. All to praise my maker. My toils now a delight as I do them for more than myself. That 100th "please" and that millionth spill to wipe up are not responsibility or chore when done in a "hallelujah." When you're giving offerings in stead of running on fumes.
Oh how often I fail to make my toils worthwhile. All it takes is a shift in attention. Am I doing this for perfection, for selfish reasons, for mindless control? Or can I stop and do this as a thank-you. Thank-you for these breaths. Thank-you for these beds I can make and these knots I can brush out of bleach blonde baby's hair. This house our sanctuary. A place I can be before you in whatever fashion I please. Alone and where I am comfortable.
He rejoices over me... As I make my trips up and down the stairs, Past the pictures, dwelling on things that make me smile, ignoring piles of paper to be filed, stopping for a new toddler mess that can't be left and sighing and tiring as a day goes on. He's just watching and waiting for any moment I might notice. How many graces must I miss when I'm too busy CHOOSING stress or IGNORING opportunities to be still. When I'm zoned in on what must be done in a day or getting out the door or in a door... how many graces has he given me when I was unaware? What awesome love.
And yet in a feverish aggravated rush I've wondered- why not help me out? Really? Can't I catch a break? All I had to do was stop. He is in the breathing. The stilling. At work when you on this moving sphere act out life unaware. How many graces have you sped by unaware?
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Some beautiful things in the sanctuary I call home that I am celebrating today:
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