I always hear so many people say that Monday's are their least favorite days of the week.
Mine are Tuesday's.
Somehow, something traumatic has to happen every.single.Tuesday. that throws a wrench at my seemingly normal routine.
Maybe my nine-year old realizes that he stuck something in his backpack (in the non-designated homework section of his folder) that "has to be turned in today." Maybe my preschooler decides that he needs to have a bowel movement at the precise moment that I call everyone to the front door to leave, only to sit on the "throne" for fifteen minutes without any production. Or maybe he spills milk on his outfit and to avoid a meltdown, I allow him to wear the green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt with the grey and red striped shorts (an ensemble that has the potential to be featured on "What Not To Wear"), thus setting us back 4.5 minutes because, of course, we have to change underwear and socks too.
Ya know, because you can't not wear Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle socks and underwear if you are wearing a TMNT shirt.
I thought today might be a little bit different. I was shocked when I looked at my phone to see what time it was and it said 6:35. What?! I'm five minutes ahead of schedule? On a Tuesday? Somebody knock on wood and start anointing the walls with essential oils in the name of Jesus because a miracle has occurred.
But then.
The celebration of my early defeat against father time came to a screeching halt as my four-year old crashed into a doorknob while "hugging" (aka:attacking) his older brother. The scream could be heard for miles and while it was a short lived episode,the Tuesday curse reared its ugly head and I was behind schedule. With child in arms, clothed in an icepack on his bruised shoulder, I managed to get me and my coffee to the car. (And the kid, too.)
By the time I dropped him off at the babysitter's house, sprinted to school, and managed to walk in on time, I had the aroma of defeat surrounding me. It followed me all day long and I struggled through the day, forcing a smile on my face several times but wanting to crawl into a cave instead.
I know that I haven't held much back when it comes to some pretty major stuff that God has carried me through. I have always credited with what my life is now compared to what it could have been. I have seen miracles. Real ones. I believe that God is capable of changing hearts, reshaping people's lives, restoring health to the sick, raising the dead to life, etc.
But what about the little stuff? What if I get a flat tire? What if my dryer breaks? What if I yell at my child? Does that stuff matter to God?
I believe the answer is yes. As I attempted to regain some sense of a normal day, I went to the break room and started scrolling facebook. I clicked on a link that took me to a beautiful voice, and she was sitting in the exact seat that I was sitting in. It was another teacher, and she had been in the same spot on the couch that I was now sitting on just fifteen minutes prior to my arrival. In the video, she sang, "Sometimes you have to speak victory during the test." God had prompted her to post this video, and I don't want to sound egotistical, but I don't serve a god of coincidences, and I think He knew I would be sitting in that very spot and did that just for me. Well, others too. :)
Some time went by and I was still trying to regain my usual disposition. Another friend noticed that I wasn't my "usual Sarah" and all I could do was look at her and say, " Sister, I feel so defeated today." It was then that my sister, whom battles physical pain on a regular basis and has seen some real trials in her life, looked at me and said, "No ma'am. You are not defeated. You are a conquerer. You are a daughter of the King, and sometimes you just have to remember what He has brought you through."
Oh yeah. What the Great I Am has brought me through.
And yet, here I am crying over spilt milk and mismatched clothes.
God does care about the small stuff. He is powerful enough to give the prodigal son (or daughter) a restored life as well as keep her from running over a nail in the road on a Tuesday morning. He is the same God that formed an invisible dam in the middle of a river while people fled through. And He is the same God that made roses smell like they do. He is over everything, big and small, and everything in between.
And I. Am His. (Breathe)
Dear God,
Thank you for sweating the small stuff for me. Thank you for placing me exactly where you want me to be. Continue to open my eyes to the things you are arranging for my sake, and anoint all future Tuesday's as if they were Friday's.
Love,
Sarah, your always-anointed, sometimes-struggling, no-believing-in-coincidences, Tuesday-hating, daughter of the One True King
