Tiny Treasures
I thought we had won. After weeks of setting traps and securing every nook and cranny of our Welsh cottage, the unwelcome mouse that had taken up residence seemed to have moved on. The victory was ours! Or so I thought until the other morning when I opened the pantry door.
There he sat, bold as brass, perched atop the shelf with my favorite chocolates. The little thief had gnawed through the wrappers and was helping himself to my precious stash! We locked eyes for a moment—me in horror, him in what I'm pretty sure was smug satisfaction—before we both fled in opposite directions. He scurried into his hidden passage while I slammed the door and retreated to the safety of my office, mourning the loss of my chocolate comfort.
When Your Best Efforts Fall Short
I stared at my computer screen, scratching my head in confusion. The tutorial for the new publishing software had seemed straightforward enough: Import your manuscript, format the chapters, add the front matter, and voilà – a perfectly formatted book would emerge. Yet here I sat, staring at a mess of misaligned text and wonky page numbers that looked nothing like the polished example in the tutorial video.
"I followed every step!" I muttered to myself, replaying the tutorial for the dozenth time. But something was clearly missing, and my frustration level was rising faster than bread dough in a warm kitchen.
It reminded me of so many areas in life where we diligently follow the "instruction manual" but still end up scratching our heads at the results.
Reshaped, Not Replaced
My husband is quite the handyman. Give him a problem to solve or something to build, and he'll figure out a way to make it happen. So, when he decided to build his own sound system a few months ago, I wasn't surprised. What did surprise me was how much time and effort went into the planning stages.
For weeks, Jason pored over diagrams, measurements, and parts lists. He watched countless YouTube videos about speaker building and sound quality. When he finally had all his supplies, he commandeered the dining room and a portion of the living room (much to my dismay) and began the painstaking process of putting everything together.
At first, he was thrilled with his accomplishment. The speakers looked professional, and they worked—sort of. But it didn't take long before his excitement waned.
From Weariness to Worship
Now, I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel like I'm stumbling through this Christian life like an ostrich walking on marbles. One moment, I'm confidently taking steps, and the next, I'm face-planting into the carpet of life's challenges. But here's the beautiful thing: our Heavenly Father is right there, picking us up, dusting us off, and encouraging us to try again. He's not rolling His eyes or checking His watch; He's cheering us on with the enthusiasm of a parent watching their toddler take their first steps.
The goal, as we've discussed, is to reach a place where our entire life becomes an act of worship. Imagine that! Every breath, every action, every thought offered up as a sweet-smelling savor to the Lord. It's a lofty aspiration, isn't it? But let's not be discouraged if we haven't quite reached that pinnacle yet.
Think of it like tending a garden. When you plant a seed, you don't expect a full-grown tree overnight. It takes time, patience, and consistent care. Some days, you might not see any progress at all. But beneath the surface, roots are deepening, and growth is happening.
The Odd Flower Out
I was out in the garden the other day, hanging up some laundry and enjoying the sun's warmth on my face, when I noticed something unusual. A single daisy-like flower bloomed tall and steady in the middle of one of my backyard bushes. I had seen it before—last year, in fact—and it had struck me as odd then, too. It seemed so out of place, protruding from the bush all alone in its uniqueness.
As I stood there, admiring the flower, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with it. Indeed, we've all had moments where we've felt like the proverbial square peg trying to fit into a round hole. We've all experienced that sense of not quite belonging, even among those we consider to be our closest friends and family. It's a feeling of isolation, being different, and standing out like a sore thumb.