dead mums

Sometimes I’m not thankful. There are days when I am so restless I can’t see straight. Days when the funk settles like a fat troll who made his way up from under the bridge and plopped his hairy, nasty feet up on my shiny coffee table. Days when dead mums on the porch aren’t a reminder of happy memories from autumn gone by or the beauty of the natural course of life. Sometimes they’re just ugly, dead mums.

How it is possible for a girl who is happily married, has three healthy babies and a beautiful warm home to be ill-content? How can I, a woman who doesn’t have cancer, a daughter with both parents living, a sister as a best friend and enough money to buy what she needs and some extra, how dare I feel ungracious?

I’ve heard people, when they are going through a struggle or a hard time, try to reconcile the hard time with the presence of God and say things like “Life is hard but God is good.” or something like that. But what about when life is good? My life is good. Still, it isn’t enough.

It’s because I wasn’t created to be healthy. I wasn’t created for a blessed life, a healthy life, a life that is overflowing with abundant goodness. I know that because I have all of that. And it isn’t enough.

It is important to notice and celebrate the small and sacred things like we do here on Tuesdays. But those small, sacred things do not a content life make. It no longer surprises me when I feel ungracious in the midst of abundance. It instead reminds me that the daily gifts are tiny shadow-like reflections of the Giver.

For in Him, all the fullness of Diety dwells in bodily form, and in Him you have been made complete.  Colossians 2:9-10a