Christian Living

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Have you ever known an instance when a small thing blossomed into a magical revelation and you knew Someone is behind this? That Someone can use any time, any place, aboard any venue.

It could be an innocent phrase thrown out there from one person to another, which in my case it was. The person was my daughter and I was the mom who had only a teeny tiny whisper in my ear that day it would become my mantra of the century. I’ve been breathing thanks ever since.

“Thank you for the bread, Lord, the morsel of fish that overflows (like the too much rice in Lucy’s kitchen, or are you too young to have seen that episode?) to twelve basketsful. And now each day I gather, seeing more and more and yet more.”

She had texted it to me: “Just show up.” Daughter as usual was understated, thrifty with words because she has such a crowd of them at work. She had been educating me to a whole body plan of Paleolithic eating and exercise with even bracelets to go along that measure circadian rhythms. It all sounded just a bit too futuristic scientific for the likes of an ancient mom: not that I wasn’t open to it and still processing.

But my point is one out of her several implications stuck to Adam’s rib and everyday now as I go about my seventy-something life it echoes off the walls of my skull, though thankfully it doesn’t drive me out of my skull, rather into more sanity. It’s so simple, so profound I feel like dancing joy for it.

Do I need to walk but it might not be far enough, rigorous enough, sparkly enough and the dogs will bark at me(both kinds) and it just might not be all that much fun. In other words it might be a less than perfect situation. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter because a small change can make a big difference,” she told me. And that’s not small nickels. “Just show up.”

Have I not spent time in the Word today? Put it off because all kinds of reasons I’m sure you know all about? That’s okay: doesn’t matter. He’ll fill in the blanks. “Just show up.”

I need to pray. But it’s late: time to start breakfast, lunch, dinner, the laundry, the vacuum. I’ll be too distracted and it won’t be the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous woman. It will bounce off the ceiling: he will deem it the ineffectual, insincere prayer of the distracted woman. That’s okay for right now. “Just show up.” Oh, child. Things will get better.

Pulling at me as urgent it’s like to suck my heart right out of my chest because I need to write the long overdue letter to my dear friend. I owe her. Why don’t I do it? Is it because there is too much to catch her up to snuff? Or it might not flow like hers do, so graceful and natural? Who knows why I’m such a practiced procrastinator. There is an answer. I write a few paragraphs and let her know I’m thinking of her. She will appreciate the communication and for me it’s a good way of ‘just showing up.’

Ironing is a monster in the closet I don’t even want to open the door to let out. So iron one shirt, already. Or maybe be very courageous and iron two. I just have to show up at the ironing board. That’s not so hard.

This is a small bucket list, by all means not a complete one, a few things I put off because my effort might not produce the perfection I had in mind: I’m thinking some standard I hammered up there on a pole one time and forgot to tear down. What is yours?

Whatever it is, can you see how just showing up can hurdle about any obstacle or excuse the human brain can manufacture? Can you see how freeing it is, just showing up? A thing doesn’t have to be perfectly developed before you can start. For the prayer, the walk, the letter, that thing you have a silent dread of but know in your head or heart is right, just show up. And for some tasks, do it every day. Someone laid it on my daughter’s heart to tell us.


author note: as opposed to DIY, GDI would mean God Did It

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