I have a bad, risky habit of waiting until the orange light comes on in the car before stopping to get gas. I recently discovered that my car has one of those Distance Til Empty meter things in it, consequently stealing all my thrill.
Then there’s my laptop. The low-battery warning flashes and beeps a full ten minutes before the screen goes black. Do I get up and plug it in? No, I do not. Because I’m comfortable in my chair and the need is not urgent.
But when that screen goes black? I jump right up, find the plug and get back to business. I’ll do anything to restore life to that little whirring, writing machine. Only when the laptop is completely out of its own resources will I turn to the power source.
Yesterday, I posted about my re-discovery of the morning time. It has been a sweet reunion with my warm cup, the wisdom of Proverbs, and the silence of the cul-de-sac. It’s like the deep, preparatory breath taken in before a day-long marathon.
But I didn’t start to get up before the sun because it was the rules or because I’m trying to check it off or because I’m supposed to have my ‘quiet time’. It’s because sometimes, at four in the afternoon, my screen goes dark. And I’ve had it. Or during lunch when they won’t get along, the orange gas light begins to shine in my head, a warning that Monster Mommy is about to show up. And my need for quiet perspective suddenly becomes urgent.
Everyday I come to the end of my own resources. There are days when I have a few shining moments as a patient mom or a thoughtful friend. But there are also days when I trip over my own life clutter and can’t quite stand up straight. I know it goes against all the words the world and Oprah says are admirable: self-reliance, capability, strength, resilience. But I am in desperate need of Jesus all the time.
Sometimes I have to come to the end of all my girl-made resources to realize that I need him all the time, not just when I run out of gas. Because He doesn’t give me quiet perspective; He IS my quiet perspective. He doesn’t hand out strength in doses equal to the amount of time I’ve spent with him that day; He IS my strength no matter if I know it or not. He makes beauty from my ashes and strong from my weak. And that is what gets me out of bed.
