I used to be a chipper morning person. My grumpier self told her to get lost.
My younger siblings do not care.
They are loud and boisterous and excited about the day–even if they don’t know what day it is.
“Audra, what day is it?” Caleb asks.
“It’s Tuesday,” I reply.
His response is normally something like:
“Yay! That means we get to ________” or “What are we going to do today?”
Maybe us grumpy adults should be more easily excitable.
We tend to see each day from a more practical, soul sucking point of view. I don’t think we mean to, though, but it’s easy to fall in line with our work hating, wish-it-was-the-weekend culture.
Last night my little brother–in his childlike wisdom–prayed the most beautiful blessing over our dinner.
Thanks for having us today.
Thank you for dinner and this time with my family.”
Caleb thanked God for letting us live.
And the thunderbolt of conviction struck my heart….
I understand that we all have hardships and bad days, but our worst day–especially if you live in the West–is someone else’s best day.
The minor inconveniences of our life will not affect whether we live or die. With that in mind, you and I have very little to complain about.
This is not meant to be a guilt trip.
Just call it a good, old fashioned reality check.
Sure, you’re not a morning person but you can be a thankful–yet quiet–non-morning person.
Sure, money is tight but you have food, water, and shelter. A cancelled Netflix account or a month without cable will not kill you.
Perspective has a way of making us honest.