I'm reading a book right now called Kisses from Katie. It is the memoir of a young woman (nineteen years old to be exact) who answered the Lord's calling to leave college, friendships, a boyfriend and her family behind in the U.S. so that she could live permanently in Uganda and be the hands and feet of Jesus. Her reliance on our brother Jesus inspires me so much. It reminds me to get over myself and to be aware and to LIVE the truth that without my Jesus, I am nothing.
Nothing but a lost, worthless, floundering sinner.
WITH Him?
With Him, I am restored, complete, purposed and full.
This inspiration has resulted in a refocussed attitude of thankfulness. In everything. At least I strive to be thankful in everything. Including cleaning up dirty dishes- because the fact that we have leftovers makes us some of the most blessed people on the planet. And I try to maintain a smile of thanks when a VERY opinionated one-year-old fights me about eating and getting dressed and having her face wiped- because He's not given her a spirit of timidity but one of boldness!
I was doing so well when I woke up at 3:30 this morning to use the restroom. I thanked God for the three and a half more hours of sleep I could return to my bed for and for the air conditioning that chilled my bare shoulders in the night. And as I tiptoed back to bed, I thanked him for my sweet, sleepy husband who is faithful to the Lord and devoted to praying for me and us. And
(SQUISH)
- and then I stepped into a pile of wet. A banana peel our dog had swallowed whole, partially digested and then thrown up. Whole.
I have to confess, I never found a reason to give thanks for this before drifting back to sleep with a perma-grimace on my face. I supposed I should have given thanks for Clorox wipes and the funds to purchase them. I'm getting there.
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