I had big plans for Saturday. Or at least what I hoped would be fun ones. Mo had to work, so I took the boys to one of our favorite coffee houses. We then stopped for a loaf of bread to feed the ducks nearby. It was gray with a touch of drizzle, but we laughed, we joked, we enjoyed.
And then everything unraveled.
We stopped at the office supply place with just two things on the list: glue and poster board. All of a sudden I was pestered for a tower of 150 crayons. I could feel myself starting to lose my cool. Not needing a five-pack of poster board, we made our way to the exit, with the boys continuing to ask for things. Upon reaching the car, I screamed and pulled out the Santa card. For emphasis, I even tried to make the tires squeal as I peeled out (unsuccessfully).
Next stop was Fred Meyer, with the same two things on the list: glue and poster board. I was again pestered for crayons and, on top of that, an Angry Birds iTouch cover. I became frazzled at the check-out, and—unaccustomed to paying cash—left my 73 cents behind. I strapped my 3-year-old into his carseat as he pulled apart his “sleeping hat” (the acrylic cap thoughtfully handmade by a coworker years ago). As I buckled myself in, the tears started to flow, and did so all the way home. I wondered what I did wrong. I felt like a complete failure with spoiled, bratty kids.
I had set out with the best intentions and ended up in tears.
My morning had fallen apart.
Yesterday I woke up early. It was still dark, but the sky was clear. I headed out for my long run at about 6:30, with a couple of stars lingering in the sky. It was still, peaceful. I set off on my adventure, which is how I’ve come to view my long runs. I didn’t know where my route would take me, I just ran. Through the quiet neighborhoods and past my favorite park, I then rounded a bend downhill, and stopped. The big, brilliant red sun was just starting to rise and hung over the foggy Snohomish valley with the mountains off in the distance. It was breathtaking. I was moved to tears. I said a prayer of thanks for being at that very place at that very moment. As I continued into the second hour of my run, I could see the big round, bald head of my dad smiling above me. “You can do it, kid,” he encouraged. Again, some tears.
I had set out without a plan, and ended up in tears, but for very different reasons.
My morning was magnificent.
Which left me wondering about the difference between the two days. Saturday, I had an agenda and tried to make the day into what I thought it should be. Yesterday, I set out with a spirit of adventure, and more of a willingness to be led.
Things went from melancholy to magnificent, from over-planned to orchestrated.
Our Pastor is reminding us about living with “less of me and more of Jesus.”
I think Saturday was heavy on the Kira.
So, that is my hope and prayer for the week, that my life will take on more of that equation:
less of me, more of Jesus.
For more of yesterday, and less of the day before.