“Women like to make sacrifices in one big piece, to give God something grand, but we can’t. Our lives are a mosaic of little things, like putting a rose in a vase on the table” (Ingrid Trobisch).
It is Monday. I woke early and rolled over in bed. I am alone, He's Too Good To Me's day began an hour ago. I hugged my pillow and imagined it was Saturday. A Saturday with no plans, no place to be, no urgent things to do. Maybe a Saturday good for only picnics in the yard or tickles on the bed.
Reality reminds me it is Monday and my mind drifts back to last evening - late, after all were tucked safely in and dreaming of dogs and heros and chocolate chip cookies. Sleepytown in jammies.
I remember last evening.
I followed behind all the dwellers of my home and picked up this here, that there. I think of messiness. I think of the messiness in my heart and push that away to concentrate on more manageable messiness.
There are dirty socks, or one sock. To find the mate I must get down on all fours and look under the sofa. There it is, just out of reach. I flatten myself, stretch, and I have it.
Of course, there are glasses. This one had milk, this one water. A liquid drop of orange juice is in the third.
Magazines, mail, schoolbooks, and storybooks.
Batman lies on the rug, not far from some trains and cars.
Next is a phone charger hiding under the sofa pillows on the floor.
There is dust. There are crumbs.
As I move from this to that, keenly aware of the fact that this is just one room of several needing a fast pick-up, I quietly admonish myself that this is the mosaic of my life. It is not grand. I may never do grand things in inner cities or foreign countries. I may never save a life. I may never move past where I am now. I am a wife and mother who is never caught up, never dressed up, always putting up.
I remember my mood last evening and accept that this mood strikes me more often than I like to admit. I earnestly strive to find some beauty or romance or joy to these moments. Pearls and heels, maybe someone was on to something.
Now it is Monday morning and a new week has begun - one that will probably end the same as the last. As I throw back the covers I vow to remember this day as special - maybe even grand. A Monday to rank right up there with the best of Saturdays. Okay, maybe that's a little too pie in the sky, but, nonetheless . . .
My mind takes hold now on the messiness of my heart and doesn't want to let go.
To make heart and life grand I must live in the joy of my Lord and my world.
There is only one way to live in the joy of my Lord. And that is to believe that my Lord gave me my life for my joy.
See? I tell myself. It's not even complicated. But, it is purposeful. It is conscious.
My life is a mosaic of little things working together to create a purpose in the grand scheme of big things.
I like it this way. Even when that mood strikes me, I like it this way. My prayer is that my Heavely Father passes a different type of grand thing my way now and then. Another chance to serve and give outside these walls. In the meantime, may I take notice of how my mosaic of little things creates authors of grand things.