The grain of sand...

Ok, there is a petty side of
me...one that I'm not proud of, one that I'm reluctant to reveal. I have a
tendency to worry and fret over the smallest things. I hope you'll bear with me
on this expose of myself, and maybe find some "glimpse of truth" in
it for you.

This summer, we (my husband, our son
Daniel, and I) went to New York to help our daughter (Missy) move. At one
point, Daniel and Missy were walking down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, and I thought
about snapping a picture but decided not to. I fantasized about that photo
later, how it would look blown up in black & white; how it would be a
subtle but beautiful reminder of our time in New York. I couldn't sleep that
night, thinking about the picture I had missed. I carried the remorse with me
into the next several days--oh, let's be honest, weeks. Even now I twinge at
the thought of what I missed. The trip itself was great, and the move went as
smoothly and perfectly as a move can go. And yes, we have other pictures of our
time there. But I let this one missed opportunity shroud my view of the
experience.

This fall, we took my parents to the
beach, which is quite a feat considering my dad is in the advanced stages of
alzheimer's and my mom is in bad shape physically. My mom wanted to see the
ocean and this new bridge that had recently been completed. Just before we left
the beach, we had lunch at a nice restaurant on the waterfront, and I realized
on the way home that I had left my glasses there. Now I have at least half a
dozen pair of reading glasses, but this was my "favorite" pair--the
ones that had just the right shade of green and peach in the frames.We had had
a wonderful time at the beach, things had gone better than we had even hoped,
but this one little irritant made me a bit grumpy the rest of the way home.


Recently we had homecoming at our church, and the choir worked hard to prepare special music for the occasion. My
niece "in-law" came and played the cello, and it was stunningly
beautiful! During the message in music, however, I sang on one part that was
supposed to be men only. Did I remember how beautiful the song was? Eventually,
yes, but at first all I focused on was the one part I "messed
up". 

Life isn't perfect. We all know
this. But what is it about our expectations that allows little imperfections to
cloud our view and get in the way of the bigger picture? In thinking about
these things, God brought to my mind the grain of sand in the oyster--that
little irritant that produces a pearl. In light of this, I'm trying to release
life's disappointments to God when they happen, so He can make something
beautiful of them. Maybe it's the things that go
wrong that we need to be grateful for, even more than the things that go
right--they are the pearls in the making.

Yours in Him,


Charlene