- Today I withdrew my daughter from public school.
- Today I have an exquisite sore throat, the cap (I hope) on six weeks of sickness in our house.
- Today I put the Captain on a plane for the rest of the week, for a last-minute business trip.
- Today I needed to prepare for small group tomorrow night
- Today I got up early to prepare my heart for all the day would hold -- only to fall back asleep on the sofa and oversleep regular start time by almost an hour.
And yet, at each step, I have been given just enough for the moment:
- Teachers and administrators, while obviously curious, have simply complied with my every request for conferences and paperwork.
- The pain of my sore throat has been lessened by taking a painkiller (go figure).
- My complicated schedule worked out seamlessly. I even had time for a nap.
- One friend offered to bring me lunch. Another sent words of encouragement. A third called and was available to pick up baby so I could focus on my meetings at school.
- After anticipating four hours of reading and developing a discussion, I found study questions online. Boom, done.
- And the final grace, I won a powerful time management App as part of a Twitter party.
More often, as today, I feel my way ahead through a dark maze. Today I especially sense the darkness, as I embark on a brand new journey of homeschooling while in the grip of sickness, without my primary support by my side.
I feel out of my depth.
But I think today also marks an occasion in which "let go and let God" seems entirely appropriate. I keep hearing myself mutter, "God, be enough in this moment, because I've got nothing."
And something causes me to stop and consider: Isn't this exactly where our Father wants us to stay all the time? All those times I think I see the road stretching straight out in front of me, those are not times of clarity; rather, they are times of illusion. None of us can truly see further than this moment, even on a good day.
I wonder how many missteps I would avoid if I could remember, at each moment, to wait for the light to show me the next step. What blessings might come my way if I acknowledge my God as the light for every step, not just the ones I question?
So today, I pause and whisper, "Thank you." Thanks that I see more clearly than ever, because I have the presence to recognize I only need to see the next step. And God always gives me just enough light to see where to place my foot.
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.