Yesterday, I meant to run in the Goldsborough Creek Fun Run. After, I planned to attend the parade with a bunch of friends and their kids. I also had a birthday party/blessing ceremony in the mix.
I did none of those things. Ruby was still sick.
I needed to be home. Sure, I could have run the race and made it home before 9:00 a.m. The finish line is a half mile from our house. Zac would have babysat for me, no problem. Ruby probably would have been okay sitting outside during the Forest Festival Parade. It was only a couple of hours. She had a cough, sniffles and mild fever. And the birthday party would have been fun for all of us. Yet I felt a check about it all.
As Ruby and I sat and watched the movie “Bolt” for the second time in 2 days, I considered all of this. Ruby laughed when Bolt bit his squeaky carrot toy. She looked over at me. We laughed together.
Wednesday night during the worship time, a young woman brought a word about good being an enemy of the best .
“We miss God in all the good things He does. He isn’t those things; He’s outside them,” the gal said. I’m paraphrasing here, but you get the idea. We follow the blessings instead of listening for His Spirit. His good gifts take the place of His presence. We find ourselves sustained by them instead of living and moving and finding our being in Him (Acts 17:28).
I felt sad about missing all those fun times yesterday, though I know I chose correctly. All of this activities were good, no question. But not for that particular day. I deep cleaned the upstairs bathroom, channeling my grumpiness into something constructive. It helped my attitude to walk and do errands, in the sun and fresh breeze. I relaxed sitting outside while reading a funny detective novel told from a canine perspective. The scent of honeysuckle, twining through the trellis, washed over my spirit as I warmed in the spring light. Later in the afternoon, Ruby perked up. We worked in the front yard, weeding and watering. It also cheered to sit outside for dinner. Feasting on Taco Bell in the grass with both Zac and Ruby – and Rex – made me smile.
After dinner, Ruby and I played Go fish. She attempted magic tricks with cards.
“Pick a card.” She held the cards out to me, splayed face down. Rex lay back on the blanket, thrilled to be of our party, though non-participatory.
I picked a card and placed it back in the deck.
“Is this your card?” she asked for the third time, brown eyes hopeful.
“No, ” I said, laughing. Took her a fourth time to get it right, and that because she watched me put it back in the deck.
I remembered that God is with me, no matter how I feel in the moment and that this too shall pass.