Grace Abounds, Still
“When was the last time you woke up and thought this could be the best day of your life?”
Over the last few weeks I’ve found it easier to think the opposite. I pray every morning and every night as fervently as I can muster while barely being able to keep my eyes open that God wouldn’t make the hours that follow the worst of my life. I preset my waking hours with the expectation that something absolutely and tremendously dire could happen, the worst thing to ever happen to me could happen. Not surprisingly, that taints how I think, how I act, how I move. Anxiety and nervousness are feelings I know well.
Nothing terribly tragic has happened in my life yet. Instead of fortifying my spirits with that demonstration of immeasurable grace, I entertain a variety of fear that says to me, intimately, “just wait, your time is coming.” Those twice daily prayers bubble out of me as if I’m begging that my scorecard for the previous day be cleared and forgotten, that my fervency might buy me a little bit more time with Peace and keep Destiny at bay a little longer.
So after one of those aforementioned prayers, I came across the quote at the head of this entry. It struck me, immediately, that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought that way at the start of a day. I took that impression to mean that I likely never had. I’ve had plenty of wonderful days, some that could compete for best days, but I certainly didn’t wake up on those mornings with unbridled optimism and positive expectation that Good and Best were waiting for me. I don’t think I’d understood necessarily that I was framing my waking moments so pessimistically, and that consequently I was moving through the world bracing myself for the worst it could throw at me.
I think I’m too much of a realist to convince myself that any ordinary day could be the best day of my life. Maybe, but I think unlikely. Even so, grace abounds still.
