My first thought when my feet reluctantly hit the floor is that my youngest child is up particularly early; on my way to his room I pass a heaping pile of dirty laundry sitting in the middle of my floor, the very laundry I had intended to get washed, dried, and folded the night before. Minutes later as my husband rushes out the door leaving me holding two crabby and exhausted toddlers, he yells, “By the way, I might be home late tonight.” I turn my attention to the pile of dishes in the sink that did not make it to the dishwasher. When I head to the pantry, my toddler is out of dinosaur oatmeal, the only breakfast he will humble himself to eat. A tantrum ensues while I get my youngest a banana.
When I consider the morning before me, it occurs to me that I may not have the energy to drag these two to the grocery store, and worse yet, I may not have any money once I get there. I receive a text from a friend, my intended lifeline for the afternoon; she is cancelling our scheduled playdate because of a sick kid. I attempt to think positively and thank God that my kids are healthy today, but I am interrupted by my 3-year old’s disastrous attempt to dress himself, realizing hours later that I never completed that essential moment of gratitude.
As I lean back on my toddler’s floor, listening to him wail as he makes a second attempt to get his pants on, I realize the powerful hold Satan already has on my day. By welcoming each negative thought, and ignoring the immense blessings involved in each of these moments, I have given Satan a foothold nearly before the real Creator I worship even crosses my mind.
Each morning when I wake, I have two options. I can allow these seemingly negative and sometimes impossible moments to take control and destroy the day before me, or I can wake with my Father, expectantly absorbing the day He has created for me. When my smallest startles me awake, earlier than I would have liked, I should first take notice of the gorgeous sunrise I would have otherwise missed. As my small miracles lose their patience waiting for their breakfasts, I can thank my Lord that we have food to eat. When my toddler has a tantrum trying to dress himself, I can thank my Lord that He is able to dress himself, and I have been given the opportunity to mold him into an independent young man. When my dread of the grocery store reveals itself, I can thank God my children love the grocery store and are thrilled each time they get a sucker for the ride home.
I am reminded of a quote from Charles Spurgeon taped to my fridge, “You are as much serving God in looking after your own children, and training them up in God’s fear, and minding the house, and making your household a church for God, as you would be if you had been called to lead an army to battle for the Lord of hosts.”
Despite the countless moments on this particular morning that I have forgotten God, He still found a way to remind me, in the middle of my toddler’s floor, that my purpose is to do His work by molding his disciples. No matter where the day takes me, I am to be a woman who fears the Lord, and convey that to my children, even in the midst of an ill-fated morning. Because I am a woman who fears the Lord, Satan will fight to infiltrate my thoughts and prevent me from achieving any of God’s purposes each and every morning.
Satan did not win today, because today God gave me a second chance. So, I smile, quietly thank my Savior, help my toddler put his pants on, and begin again.