Plans Made and Plans Broken

Last night, after a long day of running noses and whimpers, I paused to scribble in a bedside notebook: “May I see You in the snotty noses and hear You in the cries.”

It didn't sound quite as poetic as I had wanted it to, but I was too tired and feeling too honest to come up with a way to poeticize snotty noses. No, “poeticize” is not a word, as my spell-check is reminding me. But it should be. So for today – I declare it one.

But I liked the thought. I prayed over it and fell asleep with bright hopes for the day ahead.

And all too quickly, the day started. And before I had even managed to start breakfast it had become clear that none of my expectations for the day were going to pan out. Not that any of the expectations were really that important. But they had seemed that way to me.

I pouted my way through the whole morning, praying often for help in overcoming the bad attitude that I just couldn't shake, and apologizing to the girls for it. They forgave me. Well, Rosie did. Piper was blissfully unaware, except perhaps for when she caught me sniffling over the spinach smoothies. She looked at me very strangely then.

It's just not a great situation when the babies are walking around happy and Mommy is the one sniffling in the corner. It's just not.

I struggled with how to approach the day until a few minutes ago, after putting the girls down for naps and coming into the kitchen to start making dinner for the next couple of days. My gratitude journal was sitting on the kitchen island, pen ready to write down gifts.

I knew that I was feeling self-pity and I further knew that it was completely ridiculous. Perhaps the best way to shake the childishness would be to engage in some childlike thanks?

So I picked up the pen and began to write and immediately saw that John Piper was right when he said, “There are eyes in pencils and pens.”

175. “Broken expectations that shatter the cloudy glass of self-sufficiency and make me cling to Christ.”

That was my answer for the day. It wasn't living up to my expectations. Jesus, make it beautiful unto Your Name. It doesn't matter if it's beautiful in my eyes. Make it beautiful in Yours. And help me to trust You as You guide this day, and may I honor You no matter what direction it takes.

And then I saw the brownie sitting wrapped in cellophane, pinched off just a bite (okay, two) and wrote:

176. Chocolate.

And then I couldn't stop.

177. Washing machine hum.

178. Sun sifting through glorious spring green

179. Menus already planned for the week.

180. Anticipation of getting together with friends this weekend.

181. Louis Giglio on “How Great Is Our God.”

May the Great God who stretched the stars in space and formed you cell by cell in your mother's womb, Who promises to hold His children in His hand and never let us go – may He reveal Himself to you today, whether it be through the glory of nature or scrubbing the floors or through the voices of little children. And may He draw us all nearer to Himself through plans made and plans broken, for in it all, His plans are never thwarted.