We didn't make it to church this Sunday. Its a family tradition. The Maine Wienerfest - we landed there accidentally 5 or 6 years ago and fell in love with the hundreds of dachshunds competing. The costume contest has always been our favorite, I mean who can resist a puppy princess - definitely not Avonlea (our six year old daughter). But this year, the race got my vote, hands down. Those precious doxens racing to the finish line. Their owners, treats in hand, calling out to their beloved pets, hoping they will run straight to them. The ginormous grins, giggles and cheering - all brought on by the pups' confusion as to which way to go. No one was looking at the disoriented dogs with even a hint of frustration. Not a single person had a scowl. Everyone delighted in their efforts. And when one of the adorable runners finally figured out which way to go and ran as fast as his little feet could carry him, we all jumped to our feet and cheered. "Way to go!" "That…
I think I've heard the serenity prayer a million and one times, but I just recently found out that it is never quoted in full. The second half is wonderfully encouraging!
"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will; So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next"
The day had just begun and I was barely holding it together. I had a couple of young kids and getting them dressed and out the door did not go smoothly. There were diaper explosions, bad attitudes, spilled drinks and a couple of arguments with my husband. We were both exhausted. The speaker had no idea how tired and discouraged we were. The Lord had given him a heart for the poor and he was passionately pleading with his listeners for help. He was begging us to open our eyes, to reach out, to make a difference. My eyes welled up with tears and I wish I could say it was out of compassion. It wasn't. I had no idea how I was going to make it through lunch let alone reach out to anybody. I wanted to stand up and scream "can somebody help me while you are at it?!" I left feeling like a total and complete failure. A few years later and yet another difficult day I sat holding my squirming toddler and tried to hear as much as I could of a Sunday morning sermon. The pastor w…