God's Pursuit of Me,  HomeLife,  Story

remember

You know how sometimes you just want a sign for what you should do?

You ask God to make it clear what direction to move or to let you know what He would have you to do or how He would have you act or whatever?

You know how we pray like that?  (Or, I pray like that.)

But then we (or, wait – I) don’t even look for the signs that I just finished asking for?

I don’t even listen for the voice.

I don’t keep my eyes peeled (as my kids say) for what God is showing me.

Do you ever do that?

Well.

Okay.

This isn’t about you then.

But it is about me.

And I do that.

All the time.

Every Day.

I live like that.

And recently I got a little sign.

A little reminder.

(And I am pretty convinced that most signs and most reminders are usually of the little variety.  Which makes them all the harder to detect.)

Here’s how it’s breaking down for me.

The sign, that is.

A couple of weeks ago my watch broke.

(I was wearing Wilder on my back in my groovy Ergo carrier and I entered a restaurant.  He reached for a picture from the restaurant’s wall.  It was not secure.  The picture came off its nail and was heading quickly to the ground.  I slammed my shoulder against it to keep it from falling.  It was really heavy.  It slipped across my wrist somehow, sliced my watch in half and bruised my shoulder.  Yes.  It seriously did.  But it did not fall.  And that was good.)

Anyway.

My watch was broken.

And I have been watch-less for weeks, not wanting to spend any money on a watch.

But constantly feeling out of step and out of time and unaware of stuff.

Late and off schedule and forgetting about naps or bedtimes.

I like telling time on my wrist.

It keeps me a little more sane.

A few days ago I discovered an old watch of mine – it looks ugly but it runs well.

I didn’t want to wear it – because of the ugly part.

So I spent a few more days feeling misplaced, running late or early and generally being in a time funk.

Enough already.

I told myself.

I picked up the battered old watch and slung it on.

Cool.

Now I know what time it is.

And then I started that day’s activities.

We were all in the kitchen cooking  – it was a muffin factory day.

And out of nowhere I heard a beeping noise.

That’s weird,

I thought.

And I looked at the stove to see if it was the timer.

It wasn’t.

Then I looked at my arm.

Oh yeah.

An alarm.

Hmmm.  Why?

It’s only 11 o’clock.

That’s when I remembered something.

11 o’clock.

I used to do something every day at 11 o’clock.

But my former watch (the broken one) didn’t have a timer on it.

So I had forgotten about my 11 o’clock reminder.

Do you remember what I used to do at 11 o’clock every day?

I would pray.

For my husband.

At 11 o’clock.

When the timer reminded me.

But I am forgetful.

Even about the things I want to remember.

I forget.

And I haven’t been remembering to pray for my husband at 11 a.m. for a long time.

Longer than I want to let you know,

actually.

I stood in the kitchen, wearing a dirty red apron, covered in flour, feeling convicted.

And I remembered something I had just read earlier that morning.

My friend Sarah Markley’s blog.

Where she wrote about her husband.

About the good and the bad and the effort and the success.

And she asked this simple question,

“Can you say something good about your husband today?”

Sometimes

I get

a bit consumed

pondering my husband’s weak points.

And,

let’s be honest,

(because I strongly dislike pretense),

he has his faults a plenty.

But you know what?

So do I.

I basically suck at practicing what I preach.

I forget to pray for my husband.

I forget to ask myself what is my purpose

and then tell myself what the truth really is.

I overlook the tattoo right on my very own stinkin’ wrist that reminds me of truth!

Truth.

And the truth

is not that my husband is perfect

and not that I am perfect

but that

my job is not to perfect him

and not even to perfect me exactly

but to serve God.

To glorify my Creator.

Honor Him.

Praise Him.

Obey Him.

Follow in Christ’s footsteps.

Getting all dusty in the dirt of my rabbi – you know?

That’s not really about Kevin at all, is it?

It’s not really about me either.

I think I won’t even try to buy another watch.

Maybe this one still has a few things to remind me.

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