It’s Monday

It’s Monday, which means the beds sit bare after being stripped and wait for their new linens. It means the washing machine competes with the whirring of the dryer and in between lessons and reading and those tear-inducing math equations, I fold warm towels and stack clean clothes and I bend over to put it all away.

It’s taken a little under 12 years for me to begin to see the holiness of the quiet things, to actually begin to long for the simple ritual that seems to slow down the moments and in between the wooshing of water and the tumbling of half-wet jeans and the occasional quarter clanking against the drum, I am learning to find Jesus there.

A little over a year ago, I began to pray The Hours – a purposeful stopping in my day to sit before Jesus and when everything else pushes me to rush, He meets me in the slow and the constant pressing in suddenly looses it’s pull, because my heart meets with the One I am really pushing through at breakneck speed to find.

And I can breathe.

And everything gets sorted into place somehow, even without my flailing and panic.

We had to make some decisions this past month and we find ourselves in the middle of that place of questioning…questioning that choice, questioning Him, questioning where and when we will see His Hand.  I looked at Tony this morning and asked if he thought this was the trusting phase.

He smiled that smile I love and then said quietly, Isn’t all of life a trusting phase? When I slow to meet my Savior in the middle of the day, am I not trusting that what may seem like wasted space is actually being used for His glory?  Aren’t I trusting that by giving Him what we have, that He will take care of it better than I ever could?  When I give up my rights, am I not trusting Him that His outcome will be sweeter?  By choosing to forgive, am I not trusting that He will heal my heart pocked through with bitterness?

By being faithful to the mundane on a Monday, am I not trusting that He will be honored somehow, even if my eyes don’t see it now?

It’s never about me, but I can trust that He can use me for whatever purpose and to whatever end.

So I fold back the covers,

smooth the sheets,

plump up all those pillows,

and bow before Him and pray.

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