In the Morning When I Rise

The art of mornings with young children is a generally finicky business. Some mornings I rise before the dawn, have coffee, read a little, and tidy up before tousled little heads even begin to emerge from the mounds of tangled blankets and toys in their beds–and then they do and the craziness begins.  Other mornings, I pull myself out of bed when the bedroom door creaks and fly right into the business of potties, hungry, and “mommy”.

There is always a moment (or hour) where it seems like all hell has broken loose in my livingroom, but in those times even a single quiet moment can restore balance to the day. A deep breath.  Close my eyes, count to five, and look again at the faces I love.  Soft cheeks, long lashes, perfect lips that easily cry, but are so ready to laugh when I laugh.  A quick look inward never fails to show that the fault is mostly mine.  My attitude, my tiredness, my distraction.  With that perspective, the tone of the day invariably turns around and life goes on much more agreeably than before.

This frequent drama reminds me of Christ and his work of Grace in the heart of the believer.  We begin fierce in our chaos and destruction, set in our way, angry, and certain that we cannot personally be to blame for the state of affairs.  It’s not me, it’s them.  I’m doing everything right, but they’re driving me crazy.  God opens our eyes to our hopeless, faulty state, covers us with his salvation in Grace, and then there is peace.

 


 

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