His mercies are new every morning

Who am I kidding? To Carmel? I cannot fully even say I am headed towards a cloud of such grand witnesses. My preschool-aged daughter interrupted my time this morning a full hour earlier than I was anticipating. I managed to greet her kindly instead of the usual, “What are you doing up so early” question, got her breakfast, then settled back on the couch to read. Question after question ensued. Singing. Running around. (Sigh) I closed my book and stared out the window cupping my coffee trying to stay in a state of recollection.

The recollection completely broke when the screeching and fighting with her brother began. I yelled. I banged on the door of the room the brother had closed against his sister.

So much for the state of grace from yesterday’s confession. So much for the deep soul peace I had experienced. Why is it so hard? Why am I so weak? I was reminded that my soul is diseased, is sick, and that I need always immersion in the blood of┬áJesus. I didn’t think of it this way then, but He allowed me this instance of humility this morning in answer to my recent prayer to always be aware of my need for Him. He is so good to me.

And I’m grateful for the hope implicit in a new morning.