Lynn H. Blackburn

Sometimes I stink. (Okay, I stink a lot).

Hmmm…maybe I should explain….

So far this morning, I’ve served hotdogs for breakfast (don’t ask), returned the contents of the silverware drawer to their rightful homes (Emma was, er, displeased, by my removal of her art installation), and reheated my first cup of coffee in the microwave once, twice, three times.

In case you’re wondering, this is not how I envisioned this morning.

I got up early. (And I am not a morning person)
I had a plan. (And it did not include the melodic voice of my eldest singing to me from the top of the stairs at 6:05 a.m.)
I was prepared to put my plan into action. (I’m still prepared, but…)

God clearly had a different plan.

And it made me wonder about some other women, two thousand years ago…

They got up early. Who knows if they had slept? Eyes swollen in grief. Stomachs churning in fear. Minds swirling in confusion.
They had a plan. A final act of love. To anoint the body.

Have you ever wondered what they must have expected to see? Jesus had been dead for three days. His body had been turned into bloody pulp, and that was before nails held his quivering flesh to a cross.

These women weren’t expecting to find the kind of false perfection we are accustomed to when we pay our last respects. I don’t know, but my guess is they expected stench, rot and decay. Maybe bugs.

So they came prepared. They had their spices and they were ready to do what needed to be done.

I doubt they ever imagined that God had a different plan.

Of course, He always had. It came as no surprise to Him that their day didn’t go the way they had planned. And His plan was so much better.

So why do I fight Him? Why do I get so aggravated when my plans are thwarted?

Why can’t I remember that God is not surprised?

Why do I sulk and fume, instead of accepting His change and running with joy into the day He has prepared for me?

Those women did. I wonder if spices were strewn all over their path as they sprinted away. And I wonder how my day, my children, and my world would be different if instead of spewing toxic fumes of annoyance, I would choose to leave behind a pleasant fragrance as I charge into His will for my life.

If you’re thinking that sometimes you stink too, then let’s fall into grace together, shall we?

(For some reason, I think grace might smell like Spring).

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Are you taking the Joy Dare with me? A thankful heart is a joyful heart!

A gift held ~ hot coffee; sleepy babies
A gift hiding ~ a ripe avocado (hiding in the onions – not sure how it got there!)
A gift heard ~ “I love Baby Drew” (from James)

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