A Lenten morning

     On a scale of one to ten, my morning started out around a minus three. You know that you are tired when you nearly fall asleep again while resetting your alarm clock for twenty minutes more sleep. Even worse is when the scenario is repeated twenty minutes later. Dashing downstairs after hurriedly dressing, I opted to skip breakfast and simply make coffee for my travel mug. Heading down the last flight of stairs to my front door, I mentally congratulated myself on getting out the door on time, despite everything. It was then that things started to fall apart. My Camry was nowhere to be seen. And no, it hadn't been stolen by thieves or vandals. Even worse. My husband had 'borrowed' it. I quickly ran back for his cars keys, then ran to his car. And realized that he had borrowed mine because his had decided to take this Monday off. To further complicate things, his car was parallel parked on the streeth, and the car in front had pulled up right against his bumper, leaving me the difficult decision of whether to 'nudge' the other car out of the way while pulling out. I'd like to say that being a good Christian this scenario never crossed my mind, but fortunately I didn't have to face that choice. The car was dead. And I was now running late for an appointment. So, I did what any wife would have done. I called my husband at work and grouched at him. And immediately regretted it. Being the kind, considerate husband that he is (in contrast to my grouchiness), he opted to leave work, come pick me up, and return the car to me for the day. I squelched the notion of pointing out that it was my car in the first place, and tried to concentrate on waiting patiently at the curb, sipping my travel mug of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to kick in and brighten my world. It was then that I discovered that this mug had developed a leak, and was dripping down the front of my sweater.
     I'm sure I'm not alone in believing that the best life is one that is directed by periods of reflection, prayer, and soul searching. Such times are invaluable for getting us back on track, for helping us to see where we have faltered and what areas in our life need some TLC. And like most of us, I fall far short of this goal. Too often I neglect to pray and truly listen, to seek out that still, quiet voice that comes after the whirlwind of pouring out our troubles, after the earthquake of some catastrophe in our lives. But this morning did in five minutes what it might have taken me an hour of quiet reflection to accomplish. It showed me exactly where I stood. It brought out my impatience, laziness, frustration, and unthankfulness and hung them on a billboard for all the world to see. And it was while apologizing to my husband that I realized the what my lesson for the morning was. It is not the glorious hallelujahs on the mountaintop that define or mature our spiritual life. It is our reactions to the mundane frustrations of a car that won't start, a list of things to do that gets derailed by a morning gone awry. It is in the struggle, for me at least, to learn to laugh at the terribleness of a morning such as mine.
     When I returned home later this morning, I went up to my kitchen, opened the blinds to the brilliant sunshine, and sat with a cup of tea, admiring the view of the distant mountains from my kitchen. I may have a way to go before I reach those mountaintops. And I expect that my life will include lots of times down in the valley, struggling with petty battles against impatience and ingratitude. But for this moment, I will admire the view, and thank my Father for the gift of a kitchen filled with the morning sun. For the realization of how little I appreciate things like caffeine until I go without them. And a new understanding of the season of Lent.