Don't Miss Your Glory Moments

One Sunday morning with high temperatures in the forecast, I set out for my daily walk early to beat the heat. I caught myself thinking, “What a perfect morning. Too bad we need rain so desperately.” I felt guilty for enjoying the sunshine when I ought to be praying for rain.

Immediately, I felt what we believers call a “check in my spirit.” I could almost hear God saying, “Hold the phone. How does the fact that you need rain change the fact that this morning is beautiful? Are you seriously going to let this perceived lack rob you of the joy that can be yours right now, in this moment?”

I adjusted my attitude.

Not my feet. Photo by Canva.

Two more weeks went by without a drop of rain. Then, when it appeared some might actually fall, I declared I was going for a walk anyway, and if I got caught in the rain, big deal. When I got about as far from home as possible on my regular route, the sky opened. I became drenched in seconds, my finish line still fifteen minutes away. My runners squished with every step. I needed to keep wiping raindrops from my eyes, but I did not wipe the smile from my face. It felt glorious!

I’ve always admired people who could live in the moment. I’ve spent most of my life as a task-driven person who feels most satisfied when she’s checked off all the items on her to-do list, regardless of whether she even exchanged a word with another human all day. As a kid, I dreaded “group projects,” preferring to do my own, efficient thing.

That preference did not serve me or my team well while on staff at my church. I would far rather spend a morning creating a monthly schedule for volunteers than to take one of those volunteers out for coffee and hear about their life.

So I’ve been called efficient. Organized. Hard-working. None of that is bad, but how much better when the first descriptors in others’ minds are words like loving, encouraging, or good listener?

Covid restrictions have pointed this out to me in new ways. For the most part, isolation has suited me well. Now that I’m releasing another novel, however, I’ve come to realize how much more “efficient” it is to hold a big launch party in a public place where you can sell a hundred books in an hour and half— bada-bing-bada-boom, job done.

This time around, I’m selling them from home. It will take weeks to sell the same number—if I ever do. But after about the third customer, I began to realize a significant truth. Little, one-on-one visits were happening at my front door with folks I hadn’t seen in months, all of whom have been through tough times. Those conversations wouldn’t be possible at one of my typical, efficient, launch parties.

In her novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith wrote, “Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.”

God is reminding me what’s truly important, what it’s all about. To value what He values. I pray I learn the lesson well.