Breakfast in Bed
The other morning, Jason and I were sitting in bed, watching a show. It had been a crazy busy week and even crazier weekend, so we decided to take an easy morning. We had just finished breakfast in bed when I noticed Tess pulling at the covers.
She usually does this when she's cold and is trying to get snuggled under the blankets. I hardly gave it a second thought at first, assuming she wanted her usual warm nest between us. However, on this particular occasion, she had a different goal entirely.
I watched her unusual behavior for a few minutes. She would tug at the blanket, disappear from the bedroom, then return moments later to hop onto the bed. Each time she returned, I noticed a slight crunching sound. Curious, I paid closer attention during her next trip.
That's when I suddenly realized what she was doing.
Learning to Unload Before We Overload
Life in rural Wales comes with its own peculiar challenges, not the least of which is grocery shopping. When the nearest proper supermarket is a good thirty minutes away, online ordering becomes less of a convenience and more of a necessity. Jason and I have our system down to a science. The delivery arrives in stackable plastic crates, we unload everything, and then return the empty crates to the driver.
We even have our division of labor sorted. Jason tackles the refrigerated and frozen items while I handle the pantry goods. It works seamlessly... well, most of the time.
During our most recent delivery, Jason gestured toward what appeared to be a single crate sitting on our kitchen table. "That's all pantry stuff," he said casually, already turning his attention to the cold goods.
I nodded, reaching for the handles of what I presumed was one solitary crate. I'd taken precisely two steps when physics delivered a painful lesson.
When Good Becomes the Enemy of God’s Best
I'll admit it, I'm a perfectionist to my core. My world revolves around precise alignment, immaculate organization, and flawless execution. Spreadsheets must be color-coded, books arranged by genre and height, and every project I tackle must be completed to exacting standards. It's exhausting, really.
Lately, though, the Lord has been gently working with me to differentiate between excellence and perfectionism. Both seem similar on the surface, but their motivations are entirely different, and only one is pleasing to God.
Excellence is a spiritual discipline motivated by love for God. It's about giving your best effort, talent, and time because you love God and want to honor Him. It is a form of worship, and it is flexible and adaptable.
Perfectionism is a work of the flesh motivated by fear and a desire for control. It's about striving for an impossible, flawless standard to gain approval from others, to control the outcome, and to avoid criticism. It is a form of self-worship, and it is rigid and brittle.
Connecting the Gospel Dots
I stood at the back of the church, trying to process what I had just heard. For forty-five minutes, the speaker talked about Noah and the ark, quoting obscure historical facts, detailing ancient shipbuilding techniques, and even providing mathematical calculations for how many animals could fit in each compartment.
What he never mentioned? Sin. Judgment. Salvation. God's mercy. Not once.
The congregation filed out with polite smiles and murmured "good message" comments, but I noticed the confusion in their eyes. They had received information without application, facts without faith direction.
I am continually baffled and frustrated by what passes for preaching these days. It seems many preachers are so afraid of offending others that they dance around the truth and never present the whole gospel.
When Plans Go Pear-Shaped
Have you ever had one of those days where Murphy's Law isn't just a saying but your personal reality? Jason and I experienced that miserable phenomenon this week. It began with my writing. Every task I attempted was met with utter frustration. What should have taken a couple of minutes ended up taking over an hour. It seemed like no matter which way I turned, I encountered a stumbling block or a brick wall. Seriously?
When we finally surrendered to the technological gremlins and decided to take our daily walk with Tess, the Welsh weather joined the conspiracy. The moment we stepped outside, the clouds unleashed what felt like the entire Irish Sea upon our heads. Lovely!
"It's just a light drizzle," Jason said optimistically as we trudged along, our clothes growing heavier with each step. By the time we made it home, we resembled three drowned rats (though Tess, admittedly, looked the most pitiful).