I am always amazed at the depravity of my own mind. You know, those secret places that you don’t even fully acknowledged yourself. I’m not just talking about that part of you (ok…me) that wishes to shove pudding up Rosie O’Donnell’s nose when she speaks without thinking or fill Rush Limbaugh’s bed full of Cheetos just to piss him off more. I’m talking about the place that I came face to face with this morning and instead of pushing it aside, I reluctantly invited it to sit down for a minute so I could (maybe) start to deal with it.
My daughter, Emma, and her best friend, Madeline, woke up very early for a Saturday morning. I finally rolled out of bed, poured myself some instant awake (coffee) and dug out some left over scones for them to eat for breakfast. A while later, as I was pouring a fresh cup of coffee to take up to Larry, I realized I was feeling smug.
Now, you have to understand that Larry NEVER sleeps in. He is always the first up with the kids in the morning. It is extremely rare for me to get up and get everyone going. I explain this away very easily because I’m positive no one would really want me to be the one to greet them in the early morning hours. I can scare small animals and children with a mere glance.
But this morning, I did get up and I was feeling pretty self-satisfied with my burst of generosity. What is this? I don’t like this side of me. Why can’t I just do things because I’m a loving, giving person? While I believe that those things were mixed into my mess of motivations, they weren’t lingering in my heart…it was the pride that was stinking up the atmosphere.
Final thought: Grace…can’t live without it.
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