I woke up on the indifferent side of the bed this morning. That’s located right on the edge of the mattress, where one foot is on the floor but the rest of you is refusing to cooperate, while the alarm is a freight train tunneling through the canals of your ears. That can describe any morning, but I was more apathetic and slightly irritated than usual which makes it more of a challenge to self motivate and silence the awful concentration of sound pollution that alarm clocks are allowed to produce.
From what I can recall, I can’t say I went to bed in the right frame of mind. Normally, I’m content, or not even thinking about sleep before — poof — dancing on clouds, playing skee ball with Clint Eastwood, digging through large popcorns, you know, the regular dream fodder. I also attempt to spend time praying for loved ones and whatever adventures await for me the next day. But last night was indeed an attempt, as I was speaking my prayer but not really believing it. Big difference. So, last night I was indeed in a funk. Not the good and groovy kind that I love. This is Grumpy McGrumpyson funk. Yes, I’m Scottish when I’m down. Why I wasn’t feeling in better spirits is a cocktail of things that are no longer important but we can boil it down to apathy. The general feeling of not caring is a gateway drug to depression. At least it is for me. And eventually between the previous night and the butt dimples of dawn I found myself lowered into the well of wishing I had a better life.
That was until after the more heartfelt morning prayer, one of my dearest friends sent me a text, not knowing how I was feeling, nor that I was even awake (although she probably knew, knowing my typical schedule) just to wish me a good morning. Thus started the conversation of icy road conditions and if coffee should be involved at some point during our early starts. Little did she know, that God was using her to change my mood and basically my mind on what I wasn’t thinking so highly about mere moments earlier. At one point, I was describing how I love that my commute to work today was disgustingly shorter by 45 minutes. I also got to sit in my car and watch the sunrise. No wait, I watched the sun rise.
From the 10-15 minute ride from home to work, God had restored whatever faith, hope or joy I felt I had lost. By making me remember all the things that have happened to me, just in the last week alone, I have a lot to be grateful for: From all the friends I still have from 11 years ago (and beyond) to the ones I met 2 months ago, whether they know it or not they are my support system, to my parents that have done an extremely amazing job keeping me alive and mostly sane to this very day, to Chief (who will get his own blog post soon) being a reminder that God keeps His promises and will grant the desires of your heart. I immediately switched from woe to whoa and began thanking God for the many blessings that I had already lost count over. Trust me, it was a long list.
In a matter of minutes, I ran through these thoughts, mostly of faces and experiences, and that brought me back to myself, just as the sun started to breach the horizon and peer through the barren icy trees. I felt ready to start the day.
On my Yahoo email account, I have a signature that’s attached to my outgoing email that reads “It’s all in the details.” It’s a line Sawyer says on LOST. In that context, he’s talking about what it takes to pull off a successful con. It’s the little things that make you believe it’s real.
And for me, that’s what I see in how God works. Sure He’ll do big things like cure cancer or survive a car accident unscathed. Those things are great. But how often do we look at the little things? Someone tells you that you smell nice. You find a fiver in your back pocket. You get a free burger because they made one too many. Yes, all of these have happened to me.
Noticing the details can make a boring ordinary groan of a morning into a fantastically bright beautiful new one.