I woke up this morning to my wife's, "Scott, it's almost 7:00!" (She has to be at work at 7:30 and it takes 40 minutes to get to work. At that point, what can you do?) She said it as if I were some guard who had fallen asleep on duty and our prisoner had escaped. Now sure, I forgot to set the alarm when I came to bed. And sure, it's my job. But you see, I stumbled to bed last night in a stupor of exhaustion. I thought the alarm was on.
I told her to go start the Jeep. I finished dressing Sophie, she went potty, and then I pushed her through the door.
So I was feeling blue this morning. I don't know, maybe it's just all the gray. The clouds are parting, though perhaps only for a minute or two, and I see that there is light in this world. Why is that so easy for some of us to forget? I don't have a clue. But I know there is light in this world.
The yellow-haired child is wearing her angel nightgown outside, with her black heels. An empty teddy-bear backpack hangs on her back with an old childcare tag from our old church attached to its handle. This one, she's got gumption.
The boy is wearing a bright orange T-shirt with a plane on his front pocket. He's wearing a diaper, but nothing else - Donald Duck would approve. The boy's chasing the yellow-haired child with a black plastic bat. But I figure it's okay since she's wagging her butt at him and singing the Oompa-Loompa song.
Anna is wearing her 101 Dalmatians nightgown. She's not outside with the rest of us, but is drawing on the computer. She figures she's got daylight to waste. I hope she's right.
I have no where to go today, especially with the price of fuel. I may have to throw them all in our moth-infested van and run up the hill to get some diapers; I believe the boy only has one more. Of course, I might find an extra one under the bed or lying around somewhere. And these diapers, nowadays, they hold a lot.
So I read this morning, "This is the day the Lord has made." It's hard to rejoice in that truth some mornings. Some mornings I'm more likely to say, "And?" than to rejoice. But today I'm going to choose light and rejoicing. Because, honestly, depression sucks. And I wasn't made for depression.
I also read about a fisherman who had denied his Lord. He is in his boat fishing with some others when he hears a familiar command from a stranger on the shore. A net is cast in obedience. 153 fish are caught. An excited whisper, "It is the Lord," prompts the fisherman to dive into the water and swim to shore.
It is the Lord.
I get this big fisherman. I think if it were up to just him and me, the fish would have gone free that day, all 153 of them.