Learning to Live Gratitude - Even When I Fail

Today was Audrey's first "official" day of gymnastics at her regular time. She was so excited. I left with plenty of time to even stop by Starbucks for a little breakfast treat for us to share. Going my usual way to Starbucks, I encountered the first roadblock. Road closed. And the line of cars down the detour route was so very long. I turned around to take a different route, made it to Starbucks, and treats in hand, we turned out of the parking lot to head to the gym. That's when I noticed the long line of cars. And another road closed. I sat in the long line of cars for awhile then turned off on to a side street only to get tangled up in the traffic of an elementary school just beginning its day. I was going nowhere, so I returned to the long line of cars I had already been in. From there, I decided to try another side street off the opposite side. Just when I thought I was going to break free of the traffic, there it was again: another Road Closed sign. This time I was able to see beyond the sign to discover the hold-up: massive flooding.

By this time, we were already 10 minutes late for class. I circled all the way back almost back to home and attempted it from a different direction down a back road. Road Closed. So back we went to the original detour and to the long line of cars I had turned away from to begin with.

Through all of my driving and turning around, I noticed some homes that were almost completely surrounded by water, and the thought brushed my mind: Oh, those poor people. What a mess they have to contend with. Quickly, though, my selfishness and frustration would push those thoughts aside and replace them with irritated thoughts about having to sit in traffic for an hour, angry about not making it on time to my baby's class.

On top of all of this, I was almost out of gas and later as I stood outside pumping gas, I complained again. You see, up here in our new home, few of the gas pumps have the auto-fill clamps on them so I have to stand outside and hold the pump. This seems so trivial, yet it grates on my nerves to no end.

As I drove away from the gas station, I began to think about my attitude and about this new Life of Gratitude I have supposedly begun to live, though you sure wouldn't know it. Isn't the whole point of counting our blessings so we can see the amazing things God has done for us, the incredible gifts He gives us? Aren't we to count the blessings especially in the midst of the ugly? Doesn't doing so allow us to see the beautiful in the ugly? Why, then, am I so consumed with myself and the inconveniences of life that I can't stop my grumbling and replace it with gratitude?

If I had done so, I could easily have listed these blessings:

39. Living at the top of a hill, thus escaping the flooding rains that poured on us last night.

40. Only having to pay for gas in one car.

41. A little girl's arms clutched around my neck and a sweet kiss she plants on my cheeks each time I buckle her in her seat.

42. An adorable, mini notebook to tuck in my purse so I don't miss noting the blessings.

Wouldn't my drive this morning, long as it was, have been a lot more pleasant if I had been counting gifts rather than rattling off complaints?

God Sightings

"Wouldn't it be great," he suggested, "if we intentionally looked back on each day for God's hand in it? You know...God Sightings."

At the thought, I smiled as a memory immediately played through my mind. We were moving from our first house and had rented a mid-size moving truck because surely our junk would all fit in a mid-size, and opting for the smaller truck would be a monetary savings. But oh how I whined and complained and threw a hissy fit when Mark called me from the rental facility to tell me that our reservation was seemingly meaningless: they had not actually reserved a truck for us. Our schedule was thrown off as they tried to find a vehicle for us. In the end, the moving company gave us--for the price of the mid-size truck--the largest truck because that was the only truck available in their lot. And later as we packed that truck full of our belongings, we realized the mid-size truck would not have been adequate.

That was a God sighting and one I always remember with a smile. God does have a sense of humor, doesn't He?

A couple years have passed since my husband's suggestion that we be intentional in our looking for God in our days. Because He is in all of our days, in every moment. It's just that we don't open our eyes to see Him in everything. We take it for granted that He's there. Worse, sometimes we just forget He's there.

I've been reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts...and have been incredibly blessed and challenged by it. Counting the blessings, the gifts, seeing the beautiful even in the ugly. Taking note of the God Sightings.

I hear my children complain daily about schoolwork, meals, activities, inconveniences, toys they don't have. And I get annoyed at them. "Stop complaining and be thankful," I tell them. But when I stop to think about it, I realize: They learned that from me. I complain about the weather, the kids, the inconveniences of life, the things I don't have. How would our family be different if I had, from the beginning, practiced this giving thanks, replacing complaining with gratitude, counting my blessings?

I want to take on this challenge. I actually did a couple years ago, but before I even got to #12, the old life of grumbling and complaining took over, and I abandoned the life of gratitude. I want to give it another try; keeping at it for a longer period of time makes it habit. Can you imagine living a life where gratitude and counting blessings is habit?

Counting down up my blessings at A Thousand Blessings.

It's Not About Me

Psalm 127:3 - Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

"Mommy, will you please print a coloring page for me?" She hesitates as she makes her request. She knows. She can guess what my answer will be.

I sigh. "Not right now, Baby," I mumble, not looking up from whatever important task I am engaged in.

Predictable.

I glance up and see a look flash across her face. What is it? Resentment? Disappointment? Or maybe just a Why did I even bother to ask? look.

I don't want to be that mom anymore.

I don't want to be the mom who always says No or Wait or Not now or Later.

I don't want to be the mom who rationalizes that she is "here for them" just because she is physically present in the same room.

I've been thinking a lot lately. Pondering. And listening. Finally listening to the promptings. I've been bombarded by them as of late...various blogger friends who have voiced their decisions to slow down, to change their priorities; a Bible study at church encouraging us parents to remember what it's all about; words from One Thousand Gifts (Voskamp) reaching out, shaking me. Don't you hear? Haven't you figured it out yet?

It's not about you.

How do I want my children to remember me? That was our mom...she always loaded the dishwasher just right. She made sure there were no crumbs on the floor. She had a thousand Facebook friends. She really mastered the art of photography.

Or do I want them to know me as the mother who put my all into loving them, guiding them, teaching them. The mother who pointed them to the Father and who modeled a Godly life for them?

Don't I want to be remembered as the mother who knew it, who lived it?

It's not about me!