Archive for April, 2012

My Totally Selfish and as yet Unchanged Birthday Wish List

My house is quiet tonight. Kids in bed, husband on the road. As I’m cleaning my kitchen, planning a full day of errands tomorrow, I’m musing about how great it would be if I had a personal assistant. And a housekeeper. And a prep chef, because I’m trying to eat healthy and I’m tired of cutting up veggies and fruit.

In my head I was composing a witty Facebook status about these things – about how it’s almost my birthday and if anyone was looking to get me a present, this list would be a good place to start. Oh, and for good measure – add an iPad and some new running shoes to the list. (I’ve got 2 years to 40 – and I’m going to run a Disney half-marathon while my age still begins with a 3. And my knees need new shoes. And did I really just write that in such a public forum? Starting to sound like accountability. Yikes.)

Anyway, it was going to be funny.  And all of my mom friends were going to “get it” because they could all use the personal assistant and housekeeper and prep chef and carpool driver and…

Except that I started reading Crazy Love last night. I barely skimmed the first couple of chapters. I didn’t have my highlighter, and so I’ll have to go back and start reading again, because there were some definite highlight-able things there. I didn’t do any of his little “assignments” to watch videos, etc. to meditate on the wonder of God as Creator. Or as Holy. Or as eternal. I just skimmed because that’s what I do. Easier that way – it doesn’t sink in as much. You can think “Wow, what a great and convicting book” but you aren’t necessarily changed by it because you didn’t really absorb it because you read it at warp speed.

Hmm, but something seems to have clicked. Because suddenly I’m thinking about this fun birthday wish list, and it hits me – “My story is not about you. Do you know how unimportant those wishes are? How non-eternal they are?” (Temporal is probably really the word, except that’s not really what I heard. It just sounds better to make my writing sound better.)

Anyway, I’m just struck by how utterly selfish I am. How convinced I am that it’s all about me – and you know, none of it is about me. It’s all about Him.

What am I going to do about it? I don’t know – because I only skimmed. I don’t have to change yet.

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