A Grumbly Morning
By the time I turned my lamp on this morning, I'd already grumbled about at least five things. Maybe six. How's that for gratitude? By six-thirty ayem I'd already decided that I didn't get enough sleep, my kid was up too early, my phone battery was stupid because it didn't charge overnight, since my husband was gone (to a very legitimate men's prayer gathering) he is no help, my breath stinks (easily rectified, admittedly), I can't wait for naptime, and this day is going to stink because I let my hair air dry last night instead of blow drying it and bad hair = bad day, especially when you have a business meeting with a creative friend at noon.
Clearly not starting on the right foot.
And within honestly moments of calculating exactly everything for which I was reasonably discontent, my own words came back to
haunt encourage me: you are not a victim of your mind - discipline your thoughts. Which, frankly, my first act of discipline was to whine and say I'm too tired to do that, it's much easier to just grumble.
But I don't want to get out of bed grumbling. I don't want to start my day acting like these minor inconveniences are major problems. My attitude and the attitude of my heart is reflecting life or death to my husband and my daughter. Neither of them deserve a grumpy wife/mama. And shifting my perspective may be momentarily inconvenient, but will yield a house of life and gratitude and content and that's a home in which we can flourish.
So here I go, to get my hot tea (I'll repost my Fall Wellness Challenge shortly so you can appreciate the gravity of that statement). To light a few sweet-smelling candles. To make some oatmeal and turn on O, Tremble Earth by my gifted brother. (You.need.this.album. Free download, anyone?) And to leave my Bible open on the counter, because today feels like I will need the ongoing reminder of what is the One Good Thing.