I made my two-minute contact with God this morning, and I am so glad I did!
As it happens, to my reasoning mind's eye, the dailies of my life have been at sixes and sevens. Bear with me here because I'm going to list some: Awhile back, I scraped the side of my new car (my fault, but I'm blaming my grocery for their too-narrow parking spaces); then my hairdresser gave me a G.I. Joe haircut...two months ago, and it hasn't grown enough to get it shaped properly yet! Yesterday morning as I brushed my teeth, the tooth my partial hooks onto fell out...just fell out of my mouth. Yesterday morning. My favorite holiday morning. Thanksgiving dinner morning. The dinner for which I had reservations so I pay whether I show up and eat or not.
I used to believe if everything is going to hell in a handbasket that either God is peeved at me or I'm just a screw-up...or both.
God loves me so much that he gave me a new way to understand life itself; i.e., the wonderful mirror-image. As in, if it is true (and I choose to believe it is) that God only sees good, then when to my eye ugly happens, God's eye is seeing good...because it can only see good. Ergo, I must needs lift up my eyes to see through his.
There...that's the entire story of how when something awful happens to you (to your mind's eye), once you're on the other side of it, you can see through God's eye that it was good and for your benefit. That's the mirror-imagery of God's will. According to me.
That's why my two-minute contact this morning was so good...I've been feeling less than wonderful about all the sixes and sevens, and the tooth put the cap on it. Which got my ego Lucy up and running...all set to beat me up for screwing up.
As I sat down to make myself available to God, here came a blinding flash of the obvious...these less-than haps are simply the appearance of ugly. In truth, they are God's gifts solely for the purpose of bringing me consciously closer to him. Nothing opens the door of my God-consciousness faster than my going down that wrong road again...for which I am profoundly grateful.
It is a pure fact that all the uglies are mine to fix, but no blame attaches. As I go forward in righting what and where I can, neither bitching nor blaming, the crooked road is made straight, and I will know the grace of gratitude.
He goes before us to make the crooked places straight. Blinding flash of the obvious: A crooked place is always my attitude.
Thank you.
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