I’m no poet; in fact, it’s one of the areas that I regret not paying more attention to when I was in school. It just didn’t grab me at the time. Now that it does intrigue me, I wish that I could convey that joy to the children in a better way. But I digress. This morning, headed down the path of self pity, I chose to write this as it came to me while making the turnaround. May it encourage you, too.
What I’d love to do is roll over underneath my warm sheets and not face the day with all its imperfections, all its annoyances, all its distractions, all its disappointments. What I am called to do is to rejoice, for this is the day that the Lord has made.
What I’d love to do is not work, just rest and watch football highlights. What I am called to do is to work so that I [and my family] can eat.
What I’d love to do is to hold on—hold on to time, hold on to energy, hold on to money; it’s all too tight and precious right now. What I am called to do is to give, and it shall be given back to me—pressed down, shaken together, and running over.
What I’d love to do is rage, rage against everything and everyone who said an unkind word, who looked at me “funny,” who didn’t line up with my plans. What I am called to do is to be slow to anger and quick to show grace and mercy.
What I’d love to do is what I love to do—scrapbook, read, relax, indulge in every self-satisfying work that pleases me. Yet, as in all things, I choose to do what I am called to do.
And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.