The Amazing G(Race)
Morning has broken. Blackbird has spoken.
And the race begins.
A. The rat race?
C. The race to start and finish the day on an accomplished note – home dusted, deadlines met, family fed, bedtime settled, errands completed?
D. All of the above?
Ans: ______ (10 marks)
It starts after the alarm rings and the knowledge that if I don’t get up this very moment, I risk squandering precious every second that counts down to the point the children board the bus.
In changing pjs to uniforms, straightening crooked socks and taming stubborn strands into a presentable ponytail.
In nagging one for dawdling while chasing the other to go one last time to the toilet.
In negotiating where a son’s sticker book should be placed (not on top of his sister’s favourite book), succeeding, then turning to find daughter brewing stormy tantrum in spite of, and foolishly catching the tailwinds of the storm when I should know better than to growl irritated at her. At the lift. Within earshot of neighbours’ open doors, no less. (Gah, what will they think…what do they already think!)
In gloom-tainted prayers and barely audible amens with frowning daughter and sulking son, happy about the sticker book but upset he wasn’t the one to press the lift button.
In clearing messy bowls of finished yogurt and cereal, putting away the box of raisins, twisting shut the jar of honey, and gathering up crumpled tissues to throw into the bin.
In clearing my own messy thoughts, putting away thoughts of self-flagellation, twisting shut the jar of thickly churned consternation, and gathering up crumpled tatters of a heart that sought to start the day on the right foot but in the first hour has already stumble tripped knee-deep into a befuddled puddle.
If not for Him, more like vanquished. In times like these, I can do little else but thank God for His grace and His reminder that He hears. Hears my exasperation, and covers with His immeasurable grace, my innumerable shortcomings.
Grace – sufficient – for me, for the children, for the race.