We say it all the time.
“Take it a day at a time.”
How many of you really can do that? If you can, I’d love to learn your secret.
I don’t do the “take it a day at a time” very well. I’m already focused on what I’m worrying about for tomorrow. Yet it is still today.
A gorgeous summer day. My garden seems to shout, ‘Hey, Linda, look at me! I’m doing everything you’ve asked of me and more. Today.”
But my mind goes to tomorrow. Not only because of what tomorrow has in store, but because I’ve trained myself to
think worry about tomorrow more than I knew. Here’s the irony.
Each morning I remind myself that His mercies are new TODAY.
“Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22,23.
Boy do I feel like a hypocrite.
I’ve never thought of myself as a Lamentations sort of girl. I’m the encourager. The one who says that every little thing will be ok. The one who usually has the optimistic sentence in her back pocket.
But, I’m feeling more like a Lamentations lady of late. That in itself feels like an oxymoron. But, tucked away is a sign of hope. A promise that His compassion is re-given to me every morning.
That was on my mind this morning as I carried my little green container to my backyard to pick raspberries. My current daily ritual.
I spontaneously bought this raspberry bush last year at Home Depot for no reason other than I thought it’d be fun to have something to nibble on in my garden. And because my mom and I picked raspberries at our friend’s farm most summers. And because I didn’t want to plant flowers in this unseen spot.
I honestly didn’t expect much to come of them. Suburban dirt is no where near farmland dirt. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But, when the canes shot out of the dirt and blossoms began to pop out between the leaves, I began to believe I was witnessing a miracle. I cheered for each blossom and crossed my fingers that the bunnies, coyotes, and neighborhood kids wouldn’t find the raspberry bush.
For the past 10 days, I’ve walked to my backyard each morning to pick another pint of raspberries. I’ve watched them go from flowery blossoms to tough, tiny green balls to pale red berries and finally to deep red succulent fruit.
Day by day I’ve watched each little berry mature. I’ve shown more patience than normal in waiting for the berry to easily separate from the plant and find its way into my green basket. I showed restraint from pulling a berry too hard. I can wait until tomorrow. Let it be ready when it’s ready. If I borrow from tomorrow, it will have no flavor.
Day by day.
What does it mean to pick my trouble too soon? Does it rob my today moment? Those ‘ripe’ moments that need to be savored?
I’m writing this for me. Because my tomorrow does feel tricky. And I want to figure out my strategy for each curveball that could come my way.
How much of today have I lost because I picked my ‘moment’ too soon?
At least it’s still late afternoon, and perhaps I can focus better on the moments that are ripe for the rest of the day.
And tomorrow I can wake up and pick more ‘berries” that are ready.