It had been a long day. My mind felt drained and tired. Yet, it had also been a good day. God’s goodness and grace abounded from morning to evening. But by the time my husband walked through the door, a well-needed break was in order.

     “I’m going swimming,” I announced, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” In my swimsuit and wrapped in a towel, I marched to the neighborhood pool. Thunder rolls and cloudy skies chased away the typical evening swimmers. But that was fine with me. A deserted pool and quiet appealed to my overrun senses.

     Lounge chairs dotted the pool area. As I grabbed a chair, the rustling leaves from the overhanging trees soothed my spirit. I sat, drinking in the peace. God will provide. Jehovah Jireh. A message from church played through my head. These words of encouragement ministered to my tired soul. You don’t have to know the next steps. Like with Abraham, God will guide you. I closed my eyes and let the Holy Spirit wash over me. I am more than enough. I am the God who sees to it.

     As my chest rose and fell, a fresh peace bathed my spirit. I stood. Stepping to the pool’s edge, I paused. Then, in one fluid motion, my arms streamlined into the water. The refreshing coolness washed away the cobwebs and mental mire. One, two, three, four, stroked my arms. My face broke the surface and I breathed. More than enough, sang the words in my head, More than enough. I smiled. A weight I had not even known I had been carrying, floated away. As my legs kicked and arms churned, the water continued washing over me.

     When I finally emerged, my spirit was light. But God in His goodness wasn’t finished. Back at home, I sat at the dinner table with my family. Still clothed in a wet swimsuit and towel, rain began to fall.

     “Let’s go, Mommy!” cried my little girl, leaping out of her seat. I listened to the heavy pounding on the roof.
     “It’s pouring, Sweet Pea,” I protested, “we’ll get soaked.” Sweet Pea just grinned and grabbed my hand. Somehow, I allowed myself to be dragged out the door. A downpour of magnificent proportions greeted us. Off came my towel and over our heads it went. Thunder echoed. Ankle-deep water splashed over our bare feet. Our tradition of running barefoot in the rain was underway.

     “Doesn’t this feel awesome?” asked Sweet Pea, jumping in puddles. A cool breeze kissed our cheeks through the heavy splatter of drops. I smiled. One arm clutched the towel high above my head and the other extended to feel the rain. For me, the rain and sound of thunder makes me feel close to God. His voice speaks to me through the thunder and His fingers caress me through the falling raindrops.

     Splash! Sweet Pea kicked her leg in a deep puddle, drenching my legs. She grinned. I laughed. We raced on, dodging raindrops, and lifting our faces to the sky. By the time we returned home from our wet walk, any vestiges of the earlier mire were completely washed clean. Lord, You are more than enough, my spirit silently praised, You provide exactly what is needed, when it is needed. Joy bubbled deep.

     Yet even as the evening progressed, joy continued flowing. Laughter over funny tales and teasing filled the night air. Bellies shook and eyes crinkled. For where joy abounds, peace resides.

     God is Jehovah Jireh. He is the one who provides what we need when we need it. Often, God does not reveal the next step ahead of time. For me, this is challenging. As a person who likes planning and knowing what lies ahead, to wait on God takes faith. Yet, even as I write this, I am struck how it can take more faith sometimes to wait on God for the next steps. How easy it is for us to forge ahead in our own timing with what we think is best.
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     But true faith learns to wait on God and be content in the waiting. Like Abraham, we have every confidence that God will provide the next step in His perfect timing. God will see to it. He is our Provider and He is more than enough.

“Ask, and it shall be given unto You; seek and you shall find; Knock, and the door shall be opened unto you.” Matthew 7:7
 
     Sweet Pea started swimming. Her first year on a swim team, it has been a learning process. Swim caps, one-piece competitive swimsuits, and a good set of goggles now accessorize her water wardrobe.

     A beautiful summer evening, The air was cool with little humidity. Coming home early from swim practice, my husband unlocked the door, preceding both Sweet Pea and I into the house. It was garbage day in our neighborhood. Our empty trash can stood at the curb ready to be put away. Sweet Pea and I staggered into the house ladened with swim bag and towels.

     “To the bathroom,” I ordered, “let’s get you out of your swimsuit and into the shower.” I ran down the hallway to dump the wet towels into the laundry machine. Scooting back to the bathroom, I noticed the house door stood wide open. A memory of a recent conversation with my husband flitted through my mind. He had voiced his preference for the front door to stay closed behind the screen door to save on air-conditioning. Taking this to heart, I mindfully closed and locked the front door.

     In a hurry to get Sweet Pea through the shower, I started the bathwater. The loud pummeling streams soon filled the bathroom. 

     “Come on,” I yelled above the gushing noise, “Out of that swimsuit.”
     “Can you help me?” Sweet Pea asked as she entered the bathroom. All I will say is it was a comedy of errors peeling Sweet Pea out of her swimsuit. We giggled and shrieked with laughter. So loud was our laughter mixed with the running bathwater, that we were oblivious to any other noise. After ten minutes of tugging and pulling, I finally emerged the victor. As we celebrated our accomplishment, a faint thumping and buzzing sound caught my attention. Is that the bell on Sweet Pea’s cash register? I wondered, The microwave? I listened more intently. the fire alarm?

     “What’s that?” asked Sweet Pea. She looked around with bright eyes and curiosity. The loud running water muffled the noises, making it difficult to identify its source. Sweet Pea’s eyes widened.

     “Mommy,” Sweet Pea asked, turning to me, “Did you lock Daddy out of the house?”
     I froze, mouth open to deny. Then, the memory of our empty trash can needing to be put away along with me locking the front door surfaced. Realization struck. My body began to shake.

     Laughter convulsed through me, forcing me to grip the sink to stay upright. Tears ran down my cheeks as I screamed with uncontrollable mirth. Sweet Pea joined in the laughter, her peals layering upon mine. The two of us stood shrieking, clutching our bellies and gasping for breath. All the while, the knocking and the door-bell ringing continued its steady beat.

     “I’ll go get him,” Sweet Pea giggled, ready to race out the bathroom door.
     “You jump in the shower,” I ordered, “I’ll go get him.” I confess here and now, I did not rush to open the front door. Instead, I walked to Sweet Pea’s room to grab her a change of clean clothes. In hindsight, perhaps I should have let my husband inside the house first. But so doubled over with laughter was I, I could not think straight nor move quickly. Even Sweet Pea, who was now in the shower, could not stop laughing.

     The ding-gong of the doorbell and the rap-tap-tapping continued as I dropped off Sweet Pea’s clothing. I wish I could tell you I was composed and in control of my emotions. But hilarity still filled my every pore. For this reason, it may have appeared that I took my sweet-old time. To the outside observer, it may have even sounded like I was nonchalantly sauntering rather than rushing to open the door. But with the sound of the constant pounding and ringing, all I could do was stumble forward in laughter.

     I also may have paused as I stood before the closed door. But in my defense, if it happened, it was only because I could not straighten to stand nor catch my breath. Still crying with laughter, my fingers fumbled to unlock the front door.

     “Hello, my husband,” I smiled, throwing open the door, “Did I lock you out?”
     If you talk to my husband, his story and perspective might be slightly different. In fact, it might be contradictory at best. Yet, I assure each one of you, that it is equally hilarious. I also assure you, this unintentional incident has garnered much teasing and laughter for days to follow. But the core truth remains the same. Knock and the door shall be opened.
     With the Lord, sometimes our knocking results in immediate access. Sometimes, however, our knocking does not garner instantaneous results. Like my husband, we must persevere and continue knocking, praying and trusting in God’s timing with bold expectation. As we knock, we also need to continue seeking God’s Will with humble and submissive hearts. For the door on which we are knocking might be one of our own choosing and not the Lord’s. Yet, we can be confident if God closes one door, He will open another. And this door which He opens will be better than the one we first pursued.
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     May we trust in the Lord with all of our hearts and lean not on our own understanding. And if we acknowledge Him in all our ways, we know He will direct our path and satisfy us with good things. Friends and family, I encourage you to keep knocking on the door and seeking God for His direction. He will answer you in His timing and in His way. Just remember…do not forget your house keys!
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     As I age, birthdays become less of a priority. At least for me, extravagant gifts and special meals take a backseat to quality time with my family. My birthday falls during a hectic time of the year. End of the school activities, new summer endeavors, and holidays vie for time and space. So, it should not have been a surprise when I woke up and forgot it was my birthday.

     “Happy Birthday to you!” sang Sweet Pea as I opened her bedroom door. For a moment, I paused, puzzled.
     “Happy birthday to you!” she sang with gusto. Realization flooded my brain.
     “Happy Birthday, dear Mommy! Happy Birthday to you!”
     I hugged my little girl. ” Thank you, Sweet Pea,” I kissed her soft cheek, “I love you.”

     “Happy Birthday” Sweet Pea bounced. She was so excited to celebrate her love for me on this special day. It touched and melted my heart.

      “Was I the first to wish you a Happy Birthday?” she asked, eager to stake her claim. I smiled and ruffled her hair.
     “yes,” I admitted, “you were.” Sweet Pea beamed and bounced some more.

     The rest of the day passed by without excitement. A school day, things progressed in their typical routine. It was not only my birthday, but it was also a big day for my husband. He had invested countless days and hours for an event which culminated into one big momentous occasion. In addition, multiple activities still needed to be coordinated for a very busy weekend. Needless to say, little time or energy had been devoted towards orchestrating birthday plans for me. But that was fine by me.

          The afternoon flew by. With the assistance of a friend, Sweet Pea and I completed birthday shopping not for me, but for friends who were having birthday parties this weekend. My stomach was growling when we returned. But instead of thinking about what special birthday meal I wanted, we turned our attention towards wrapping gifts.

     “Are we having pizza tonight?” asked Sweet Pea.  Not if I can help it, I thought. Though no time had been devoted towards birthday planning for me, I knew pizza was not what I wanted to consume on my special day.

     “We’ll see,” was all I said. But despite lack of birthday plans for me, I felt so blessed. Time in the pool talking to God in the morning had set the tone for the day. My heart was light and my spirit blessed. Adding to this, family and friends delivered flowers, cards, baked goods, and gifts. Even my little girl had carefully made a special handmade gift which I now wore. I felt so loved by both family, friends, and God.

     When my exhausted husband walked through the door, a plan unfolded in my brain.
     “Sweetheart,” I began, “Can I order sushi for dinner and eat it poolside?”

     “Yippee!” cheered Sweet Pea. After making the necessary phone calls, Sweet Pea and I dipped in the pool while my husband ran for the food. It was a beautiful evening. The water was warm and the air pleasant. Though my birthday had been thrown together last minute, I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner and time with my family at the pool. We even had time for a quick board game before heading for bed.

     As we gathered for evening devotions, Sweet Pea proudly presented me with a special birthday card she had created. On shimmering card stock with beautiful detail, it was a special card.

     “Thank you!” I hugged my little girl, grateful for her joyous love. My heart felt so full. To love and be loved is a precious gift.

     Then, as we settled into devotions, a Bible verse caught my daughter’s attention. Numbers 6:24-26. Reading the verse aloud, Sweet Pea broke into song.

     “The Lord bless you and keep you,” she sang, leaning against me, “May His face shine upon you and be gracious to you…” The words taken directly from Numbers, The Blessing by Kerrie Jobe and Cody Carnes, carried special significance for our family. Immediately, I joined in with her.

     “Lord turn His face towards you and give you peace,” she and I sang. Our voices blended together. Again and again we sang these words of blessing. Then, to my surprise, another voice joined us. My husband.

     With a smile on his face, my husband often preferred to listen and observe rather than join our impromptu songs. But on my birthday, my husband’s voice melded with ours.

     “May His favor be upon you and a thousand generations,” the three of us sang, “and your families and your children, and their children, and their children…” The words of this benediction poured from our hearts out of our mouths to the Lord in joyful reverence. There, the three of us snuggled together, united in song, spirit, prayer, and blessing.
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     It was the perfect gift. A gift superseding all other gifts. For nothing compares to the love and favor of God. Nothing compares to His blessing. What better birthday gift could one receive than a blessing over generations and generations of your family? My heart overflowed with gratitude and thanksgiving. I wanted nothing more than God’s blessing over me, my family, and the generations to come. It was the perfect birthday gift…the gift of a birthday blessing.

     A friend recently gave me a basil plant. How excited I was! To me, nothing signifies summer like the fresh leaves of basil in my summer salads. The plant stood tall and proud in a pot. Its leaves were vibrant green and fragrant.
     “Put it outside in the sun and water it,” advised my friend. “Then, as it grows, you can snip off its leaves.” So, into the tiny garden, my new basil plant went.

     Right here and now, I confess I do not possess a green thumb. I am also notorious for forgetting to water the garden. Thankfully, God took care of the watering for the first few days. But alas, except for the morning dew, no other water rained regularly upon my garden. A burst of remembrance once a week might allow for one good soaking. But other than this, the plants in my garden scorched in the sun.

     A comment from my friend who gave me the basil plant finally propelled me into action.
     “My basil plant is thriving nicely,” she said, “Yours should be too!” I’m lucky if it’s still alive, I thought. But as soon as the phone call ended, I marched outside and turned on the hose. Dousing the small area, I reached to touch the plant. It’s leaves drooped and wilted. Is it dead? I thought with alarm. I sighed. It would serve me right if it did not survive. But I still watered the plant, hoping for the best.

     The following morning, I rushed to prepare for the day. The sun rose hot. It was going to be another scorcher. I’ve got to water those plants! I thought, rushing from one thing to another. But with less than ten minutes to spare, I almost pushed the responsibility aside. Even if they get 5 minutes of watering, my mind raced, it will be better than nothing. So out to the garden I ran.

     As I stood with the water gushing from the nozzle, I bent to feel the basil plant. To my surprise, it stood tall and straight. I couldn’t believe this was the same plant. Once more, I stooped to touch it. Having been refreshed by the watering from the day before, the leaves on the plant reached high for the sky. Amazing how one day’s watering makes a difference, I marveled.
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     Then, it hit me. We are so much like our plants. If we do not receive our daily watering of God’s Word, we will be like my drooping basil plant —unable to stand beneath the scorching pressure of the world. Yet, if spending time with God is a part of our daily watering, we like my basil plant will be able to thrive despite the flaming arrows of the Enemy. Just like the leaves of my basil plant stood vibrant and strong under intentional, daily waterings, so also will we. May we make time in God’s Word and with our heavenly Father to be watered daily. For we, like our plants, are at our best when we soak in the daily watering of God and His Word. May we delight in His Word this day.

It was a recipe for pure stinkiness. Cheese pizza, cheesy fries, and an ice cream sandwich. You would have thought I had known better. But it had been a long week and it was an easy dinner. A movie and family time rewarded us. After it was finished, Sweet Pea brushed her teeth and jumped into bed.
     By the time I stepped into the room, my husband was curled beside our daughter. But a foul smell greeted my nostrils.
     “Sweet Pea!” I cried, covering my nose, “you stink!” Sweet Pea giggled. I fanned the air in front of me and grabbed for a pillow. Take cover                  was all I could think. But as the air cleared, only one logical option remained. Thwack! Pillow fight!   
     Sweet Pea screeched. My husband guffawed. We all dove for the remaining pillows. My husband pummeled me from the side. Sweet Pea ripped the pillow from my hands. And a wild pillow fight ensued until…The ceiling fan became an accidental casualty. A truce was called and the fan fixed.
     We all gasped for breath and settle into our nighttime routine. As we readied for prayer, somehow my husband’s stinky ensocked foot hovered beneath my nose.
     “Whew!” And then it hit me. How did my husband get his foot to my nose? He was laying parallel to me. Sweet Pea began laughing, having witnessed her father’s gymnastic feat.
     “I’m impressed I can still lift my leg above my hip,” bragged my husband, who demonstrated his pretzel prowess once more. Again, His smelly foot waved under my nose. I laughed and batted it away. But before I knew it, a smaller foot fluttered in front of me. Like father like daughter! As I smacked Sweet Pea’s foot away, another aroma filled the air.
     “Sweet Pea!” cried my husband. We all dove for cover as Sweet Pea laughed with delight. I would like to say our silly evening ended here, but more was to follow. Still holding Sweet Pea’s pillow in my arms, I deposited it on her mattress.
     “Mph!” Startled, I picked up the pillow. Once more, the noise followed.
     “Do you mind?” said a muffled voice beside me, “that pillow is in my face.” Startled, I froze. Smothering my husband had not been my aim. Then I shook with laughter.
     “I’m sorry your nose got in the way of the pillow,” I giggled, shifting the pillow away. Sweet Pea hooted. In response, my husband smacked me with a pillow.
     “Okay, okay,” I protested, “let’s get settled for bed.” But I could not resist. Sweet Pea lay snuggly beside me, a huge smile on her face. Before I knew it, my fingers took on a life of their own. Soon, they found themselves tickling Sweet Pea beneath her armpits. A loud squeal emanated from her small frame. Her eyes widened in surprise.
     “Mommy!” my husband remonstrated, but then he joined in the fun. A tickle fight of great proportions followed, of which I must confess, Mommy was not the winner. And Sweet Pea the victor.
     As we lay laughing beside one another. the oil of joy poured over us.
     “This was fun!” Chortled Sweet Pea. She wiggled with enthusiasm. Her little fingers reached out to tickle some more. Somehow we made it to prayers. Although, I must confess the time was more playful than reverent. Giggles and other tickles permeated our conversation with God. But God looks at the heart of his children and delights in their joyful communion. He is the giver of good things. And it is His Holy Spirit which gives joy. Our times with the Lord needs to be heartfelt and sincere. But it also should be filled with thanksgiving and praise. And believe me, our hearts overflowed with joy and thanksgiving on this funniest of evenings.
     So often times our days fly by with the dirge of everyday tasks. But take time to laugh and have fun as a family. Don’t let the mundane details overtake your heart and mind. It is my prayer that you will taste and see the Lord’s goodness this day. May He fill you with a peace which passes all understanding and a joy which overflows.

After tucking Sweet Pea into bed, my husband kissed our little girl goodnight. Then it was my turn. Leaning over, I pressed my lips against her soft cheek.
     “Good night,” I whispered, “I love you.” Sweet Pea smiled and hugged me back.
     “Mwah!” Her lips smacked with enthusiasm. I patted her on the head and turned to leave. My husband still hovered by the doorway. Stepping into the hallway, I heard him circle back.
     “Good night, Sweet Pea,” he said,” delivering one more hug and kiss.
     “I love you, Daddy,” my sweet girl chirped. Her affection melted my heart. Then, it hit me. She never said those words to me tonight! I confess right here and now, my competitive, mischievous side reared its head.
     Quietly, I hid myself in the alcove of the bathroom…waiting. My husband exited Sweet Pea’s room. His feet padded down the hallway. Then I pounced.
     “I love you, Sweet Pea,” I sang, breezing back into Sweet Pea’s room. Her eyes widened in surprise. I leaned down to deliver one last hug and kiss. Take that Daddy! I thought.
     “Good night!” I smiled as I left the room. I walked down the hallway. But as I entered the next room, something caught my attention. My husband’s voice. He was back in Sweet Pea’s bedroom.
    “Good night!” He said with a chuckle.
     “Mwah!” Sweet Pea giggled.
     I could not believe my ears. He was trying to trump my last hug and kiss. Now it was on!
     I shoved by my husband as he exited. Without apology, I ran to my daughter’s bed. Once more, I leaned over and hugged.
     “I love you, Sweet Pea,” I oozed, “Sleep well!”
     Sweet Pea laughed, delighted. Clearly, a new bedtime game had been created. The last hug game.
     As I turned to leave, a slight breeze ruffled my cheek. I walked down the hallway to join my husband for evening prayers. But he was not in the room.
     “Good night, Sweet Pea,” rumbled my husband. He smothered a belly laugh and gleefully slipped out the door. Now the gauntlet had been thrown. The baton had been passed.  But this time I waited, biding my time.
     “Hello, dear,” I smiled at my husband as he entered the room. He laughed and sat down at his laptop.
     “excuse me one moment,” I said, standing up. And back to Sweet Pea’s room I strode.
     “I love you, sweetheart,” My arms encompassed her in a bear hug. I shook with laughter. Guffaws echoed from my husband in the next room. Sweet Pea wiggled with pure delight. The game thrilled her. And it tickled me to the core.
     When I turned to leave, I heard Sweet Pea’s laugh ring out.
     “Daddy!” she called, “Come and give me another hug!” All three of us laughed together. It felt so good to share in laughter. It felt so good to have fun. It felt amazing to love and be loved.
     I would like to say this wasn’t the end of the game. But for another ten minutes more, we played the last hug game. We delighted trumping the other’s hug and kiss. Sweet Pea encouraged us, her laughter and giggles egged us onward. With each hug, our hearts filled with love and laughter. And with each laugh joy spread. And with joy came peace.
     “Good night, Daddy,” Sweet Pea sang when we finally finished our game. “Good night, Mommy! I love you!”
     As parents, routines can often rule our days. But when we can still accomplish the task at hand with new zeal, perspective, or fun, it transforms the mundane into a vehicle for greater impact. Yes, Sweet Pea fell asleep a little later than usual. But what we took time to invest was of far deeper value…love, laughter, and joy. May each one of you take time to turn the ordinary today into the extraordinary. Live out love and joy in new ways this day.