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"
I have noticed something interesting about myself when it comes to opening the doors of our home. I am the first to admit that fifteen minutes before our guests arrived the place was a mess. I was barking orders to my kids, scrubbing our toilet, stuffing things in drawers and searching for underwear (yup, probably dirty) that pop up in the most random places. I don't mind admitting that I don't have it all together, but I have a hard time letting anyone see it. I am the same way when it comes to my emotions. If I'm really struggling I tend to pull away. Just last night I found myself tempted to postpone a scheduled visit with a few close friends because I had no desire to admit to them that I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Praise God, I dragged myself there and they gently began the process of gluing me back together by simply listening & loving me - despite me. And then there's "grace in the midst". I love passing along thoughts, ideas an
I make a grunting noise as I toss another lego into "toy jail". I step away and trip over one of the kids light sabers. Glancing over at the breakfast crumbs (we could seriously feed a family of refugees , not that I struggle with the idea of how much we waste or anything), I feel my eyes well up and think "I could use some of 'the force' about now. Trying to determine if I should pull the kids from their happy game of Zingo or tackle the breakfast fiasco on my own, I decide on the latter. What was my dear friend's quote, I ponder. Oh yeah, "a little and often". She was referring to home maintenance (along with other things). Gently, she was reminding me to stay on top of things rather than let them build into tougher jobs. "This isn't a little and often", I sarcastically mumble "this is 'a lot and always'." Seriously, if I'd simply pray every time I pick something off the floor, I might actually get a gras