This past year as I have dove headlong into my year of turning 40 (aka, "Fab4D"), I have been more intentional about being awake to the simple joys and beauty in my life. Every day is truly a gift.
But when you live an average of 27,375 days, each one can meld together if you don't make a concerted effort to wake to your "one beautiful life,' as Ann Voskamp would encourage.
I am often guilty of living my life in the "not-yet."
I am a planner to the core, so my fingers are always itching to fill in the squares of my monthly/yearly calendar.
"I just want to know," is something that could be put upon my tombstone.
It almost seems laughable when I type it out. As if I could manage something so vast and wild and unfathomable.
We each do our best to take what we have planned and purposed for each day and manage that day to the maximum. Sometimes we do better than others. Sometimes we cram each day with so much that it becomes unmanageable.
And then we get upset.
Time is raw, free, infinite, yet somehow limited...and limiting.
I have also learned from dear Ann's, One Thousand Gifts, that I can slow time down when I truly live in each moment. And the way to focus in on moments in infinite time is by looking -- truly seeing -- and giving thanks for that very moment.
The laundry still might need to be folded. Potatoes should probably be peeled, and the very next moment may hold a science experiment gone wrong.
But this moment.
This is the moment that I truly see a measure of God's grace.
I'm packing up and putting away our new-to-us-completely-a-blessing iPad in its long-awaited case. I'm putting the bluetooth keyboard that works like a champ with it (that we already had for our daughter's Kindle Fire) into the case that I converted from a crayon holder last summer.
And then I see it.
A perfect row of tiny yellow stitches.
And then I look over at the white stylus that I just received for Mother's Day.
And it clicks.
It's a perfect fit.
I don't know why I ripped out all those tiny rows that were originally designed for crayons but left that one intact. It might have fit the keyboard better. I'm sure it did.
But right now...in this moment...it's being filled in a way that I never would have guessed or even dreamed. I can't help but marvel over it because it looks like it was made just for this stylus...even though I bought it and repurposed months and months ago.
And maybe it was.
You see....I'm learning that time is also fluid. And lately, I feel like God has been lifting the curtain a bit and showing me glimpses of his power and his forethought over my life.
And if God cares enough about me to orchestrate the perfect spot for my stylus almost a year ago, then He has the timing of this house thing completely locked up.
There is a perfect fit for us out there somewhere. And I wouldn't be surprised if He hasn't been making adjustments on it for months or even years.
Because when He shows me His faithfulness in the small things, it is so much easier to trust Him with the BIG stuff.
I would rather fit snugly in His pocket of grace, then anywhere else.