Target Practice

Each morning when I awake, a swarm of thoughts awaits me.

The thoughts come in truck loads full.
The thoughts are about doctor visits and decorating ideas.
They continue with joy or concern for my friends.
Sometimes they contain leftovers of difficulties from the day before.
They threaten to undo me.
It's a marvelous morning cocktail of cares.

Each of these concerns is probably valid and important. They can't be dismissed as evidenced by the way they weave their way into my day. They must be addressed. And they will be. Just as soon as I file them and let them know my priorities.

This morning when I awoke, the thoughts threatened to bombard me. They do that on Monday mornings, especially on Monday mornings that follow a 5 day Thanksgiving weekend in which other people help feed my children and clothe them and give them raspberry kisses. On those Mondays I feel very alone.

So this morning I started my thoughts with target practice. My target this day, if I'm living the way God wants me to, is to love. That's my target: love.

If I don't see love as my target, then making the 12 millionth peanut butter and jelly sandwich becomes a task suitable for robots. It leads to numbness of heart and mind.

My washer did something funny this morning. It wasn't "haha" funny, more like *groan, rolling eyes* funny. I felt the day trying to unravel me so I told Dan over coffee. In his true "forest for the trees" way of thinking he reminded me that we're commanded by God not to worry. Forbidden.
Not allowed.
Ain't in our vocabulary.

Zing. There went the arrow straight to the target.

Some contractors came at 8am and let me know something was wrong with the dryer. I filed that under my "no worries" folder and continued to plunge in my morning routine.

Another arrow flew. Bulls eye.

Later this morning I'll go grocery shopping. The goal on that trip will be to get groceries, but as any mother of young ones knows, there are ample opportunities to show love to your children in grocery store settings.
Like when they sit on a pile of paper towel rolls to see if it will hold their weight.
Or climb the shelves.
Or when they announce their dislike for their seated situation.
Or would like very much to put every item in your cart on the conveyor belt by themselves complete with the phrase, "I do it."

There's acres of opportunities for target practice there.

I can't say I'll hit the target all the time, but if I shoot my arrow in the general direction and arm myself with prayer, coffee and some practice, I might just make it.

Zing.