Sometimes I wonder where in the world did 62 years go?
After today, I know what happens with about 4 hours.
It's making sure a hubby (if you are a woman), take his medicine before he leaves the house.
It's babysitting grandchildren and teaching them befriending an Iraqi family is more than a ministry--it's love.
It's visiting McDonald's, filling cups, finding straws, and handing out five Happy-Meals while simultaneously opening toys and distributing little ketchup cups. It's insisting kids eat their chicken nuggets before they get a chocolate chip cookie, or go to the play area.
It's putting on shoes and taking off shoes and putting on shoes, at least 6 times in the course of events. Two hours after ignoring whines, but paying special attention to boo-boos and blisters, we hit the Public Library to help an immigrant apply for a library card.
It's keeping two four-year-olds, and one six-year-old occupied while my Arabic-speaking friend tries to find a book (out of a gazillian), to practice reading English.
It's guiding (uh, manipulating), children to choose appropriate books for their reading levels. It's reading a book about Rotten Ralph's rotten behavior (three times), while overseeing two kids playing the Arthur game on the library's computer.
Sixty books and two more hours later, we're checking out 8 books and filling out library forms. I'm trying to get out of the building before one of the three kids gets knocked over while playing tag on the playroom area rug. When Abodda starts crying, I am praying a prayer of thanksgiving that (before the day began), my four-year-old Kinsey insisted I read one of Disney's Princess books, where Belle showed Chip how to practice patience (I figure God strategically placed that one in my life to forewarn me of things to come).
Between seeing my hubby off to work and going to pick up my grandchildren for our McDonald's/Library adventure today, God also had me write devotionals on measuring words, and being filled with strength, and praying for power in our weakest moments.
I also had just enough time to read my new-found blog-sister's post Putting On The Brakes, and realize now, how providential her words were to my own situation.
After making round sandwiches, having a tea-party, attending to potty breaks, answering emails, and consoling long-distant grief-stricken friends, I found another message for my wearied time-worn frame:
My life is probably not much different than anyone else's. Everyone is busy.
My four hours had far more situations occur than I lay before your weary eyes, today. Suffice it to say, I realize that all the little things, which seemingly rob us of important moments of life, are really the big things that restore the time we think is misspent.
For at the close of day, I am reminded of the bear-hug I received and the thank you voiced by my Arabic-speaking friend. I still see Abodda's tear-streaked face because he didn't want us to go home. I am content in knowing yesterday's four hour portion of my 62 years, was spent exactly like my Lord wanted it spent. And as I consider what today holds, I shudder a bit, yet find myself believing it's never too late when you invest your time in another's life for God's glory. selahV
Hey...don't rush off. Am I alone? Do you ever think the little things are too little to count?
