No matter how early I get up lately, I always seem to be late.
Mornings are full of running— all around the house. I should probably win some kind of award for all the times I managed to get ready, chug coffee and even brush my teeth when waking up an hour after my alarm.
I rushed back up the stairs to my room for what felt like the millionth time, and then I stopped.
I talk all the time about slowing down to rest and find joy in the little moments, mostly because I’m the one who struggles so much to do those things.
I think about the future a lot— worrying about school and jobs as my 5th year of undergrad quickly comes to an end and rolling my eyes every time I hear the, “Oh wait, you haven’t graduated yet?” question.
I think about all the dreams that don’t seem to fit together, about jobs I don’t yet have, cities I’ve never been to, and plans that aren’t ready to be made.
—and it gets me nowhere.
But I'm not going to believe for one second that I’m the only one who does it. We all get caught up in the craziness and the demands of life and forget where we are right now. We forget that the calling really isn't all that ambiguous.
Anyways, that morning as I walked into my room the sun was beaming in so perfectly, blanketed like grace over the bed I didn't have time to make, the strewn hangers, and unfolded clothes.
Blanked like grace.
Thats how grace feels to me. Like curling up in a blanket after a long day. It covers my flaws with beauty and second chances. It gives me rest and reminds me that there is a tomorrow. That His mercies aren't just new on the organized, 2-hours-of-quiet-time mornings, but they are new on the messy ones too.