Morning Devo

I love Thursdays. ¬†Thursdays are the days when I get to let loose -technically it’s shopping day every other week, but I have a great talent for procrastination, and I make my milk and bread sttttrrrrrech so I don’t have to shop until Friday at least.
Thursdays are the days I indulge my crafting fancy, my Make My House a Home fancy. But most of all? Thursdays are the days I work out for an hour in the morning and then drive myself CLEAN out into the middle of nowheres so I can pray.

There’s a deeply insightful quote by Brad Willcox that goes something like, “You don’t have to go to Italy to eat; you don’t have to go to India to pray, and you don’t have to go to wherever the heck else she went to love!”

I love that quote.
I think the world is full of searching people. They’re constantly searching outwardly for answers that can be found -more often than not – inwardly.
I won’t tell you all about how I can’t stand the woman who wrote “Eat, Pray, Love” but I WILL tell you that I love Thursday mornings.
I don’t go to India to pray.
I just go to my knees. And on Thursday morning, I go outta town. I drive my Jeep into the dust, breathe in the fresh morning air, take in every little ray of sunrise I can… and then I pray. I lay it all on Heavenly Father -my hopes, my worries, my dreams, my stresses, my laughters, my hates, my loves, my apologies, my gratitude, and my LOVE.

Then I open my eyes.

I read and I ponder.
I learn more about myself in the 20 minutes I spend in quiet solitude than I do in the 40+ hours it takes me to read a self-help book.
True story.

I wish I had a working camera so I might capture the beauty of the moment to share with you: the single black crow gliding across the new sky (my dad could go without that sight, I bet -blasted crop eaters), the endless miles and miles that make me want to belt Dixie Chick songs, the plateus, the barren trees in the distance, the cattle trails, the distant highway… it’s so perfectly renewing, all of it.
It makes my heart swell with wonder and pride, and all at once I love our country.
I find hope and I gain confidence.

I realize, in a peaceful moment, that I’m great at my job because I LOVE it. I was BUILT to stay at home. There may be a season when I’m called on to leave the home and work and I can learn to be good at that too, but for now… for NOW: I’m a fierce guardian of my home, and despite my overwhelming shortcoming and insecurities, I’m GOOD at what I do. Am I the best? Suckah, please. NO ONE is the BEST at being a stay-at-home mother. Really: if you TRY and accuse (for lack of a better verb) someone of being the best mother there ever was, she’d knock you blind.

That’s not really my point.
My point is just that on Thursday mornings, I’m reassured. I’m given a bounty of inspiration and a heavenly pat on the back.
It’s like a silent pep rally for Those Who Actually Really Hate Pep Rallies.

Thank you Thursday.
May the future bring a camera with it so that I might properly share you.
A Mother with Bird Poop and Sweat On Her Shoulder

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