5:00 a.m. Why do mornings exist? Leaving sleepland is like saying goodbye to a loved one.
“Jesus, thank you for warm showers, coffee, and time to write.”
The words pull me back from misery cliff. Now I get to write and drink coffee. I get to feel accomplished and realize it’s only 7:00 in the morning.
3:00 p.m. I’m standing at my desk to stay awake. Each hour of research brings five more questions. Why can’t America have siestas?
“Jesus thank you for interesting research, thank you for this job, thank you for Fridays off.”
Why am I whining? I love breaking the form-fill, analyzing complex questions, and turning the chaos into simple words. 10 hour days are long, but three day weekends are emancipation.
6:00 p.m. Piles of lumber in my dining room, brown streaking through three coats of white paint. Who thought buying a fixer-upper was a good idea?
“Jesus, thank you for helping family. Thank you for meals from my sister.”
I’m being spoiled. I haven’t made dinner in two months. I’m getting days of free labor from family.
God keeps saying, “I delight in caring for you, Mary.” I divert my eyes and smile.
8:00 p.m. My bed has gravity that’s hard to fight. Nothing looks conquerable. Life’s like the the paralyzed, mute dream when the bad guy is coming.
“How was work?” Matt asks.
“I felt like an idiot all day trying to figure out a research project. How was your day?”
Shocking. His days are always productive. Wait. I just lied. My day wasn’t miserable.
“I take that back, Matt. It’s really fun to have a research project. I like trying to figure things out and getting to write at work.”
Why do I say the bad and ignore the good? Do I prefer being miserable? I’m lying about reality, stealing God’s credit, and ignoring others’ kindness.
Thankfulness is so much more fun. It makes me love writing, feel spoiled, and see thoughtfulness. When I thank God I’m the luckiest person alive. I have every reason to give.