Taking Notice

When my family moved to Alaska, I just assumed that it would be nonstop adventures every day.
Chopping wood, scaling mountains, fighting off bears, hanging out with Jewel and her family on the homestead...you know, all completely reasonable expectations.

But if hopping around from place to place every two years has taught me anything, it's that "real life" looks pretty consistent no matter where in the world you are. The basic needs of our family stay pretty much the same: Food, house, school, church, clubs and activities.
(Sorry, Jewel. I'll catch you next time.)

So other than letting my dogs inside to keep them from barking at the occasional moose, (because Alaska does have its unique features after all,) my morning routine is the same here as it was everywhere. I wake up, pack lunches, help serve breakfast, get the kids out the door, and tidy up.
(It's all super glamorous, I know.)

However, this morning after the kids had left for school and I began my usual tidying, I felt an unusual amount of alertness in the mundane tasks I was doing. Cleaning morning dishes, wiping away breakfast crumbs, putting away items that were out of place, and remaking beds that needed a little extra attention aren't things that require a lot of deep thinking, but there I was--really concentrating--very aware of every item that was being brought back to order and every tick of the clock that I was spending to make it so.

My husband makes the kids their breakfasts most days, which is, believe me, a real treat for all of us. But he usually leaves a trail of ingredients out on the counter in the mad dash to get out of the door on time.
I put the forgotten food away and write down items we need restocked on the grocery list.

My kids eat their daddy's meal and put their dishes in the sink, but they always leave behind a pile of crumbs and smear of saucy fingerprints on the counter.
I load the dishes and clean the crumbs and wipe the fingerprints and sweep the floors.

My kids love to read and leave books everywhere: on the staircase, at the breakfast counter, in their beds, on the hallway floors. There is always a pile of shoes in the mudroom. The kids still aren't great with hangers, so there's a mountain of coats on the closet floor.
Television remotes are scattered. Laundry hampers were missed. Jewelry boxes were neglected and there are random earring pieces on the floor. A plastic toy dinosaur is lodged inside the heating vent. Nerf bullets hide out in every dark crevice of my house.
Piece by piece, I put everything back in its place.

The kids are supposed to make their beds each morning, but they have been struggling with the larger comforters. (And if I'm being completely honest, I'm just crazy particular about how bedding is supposed to look and everyone else in my family does it wrong.)
I tear apart their beds, smooth the sheets, draw the up covers, fluff the pillows--making sure it's smooth and lovely for everyone to climb into after a hard day.

As I stood there fluffing my son's pillow, I wondered to myself if my family even noticed all the things were being done for them on the sly.
Surely they had to see that the beds were better.
Surely they had to notice that their items were all lined perfectly back in their rightful places.
Surely they were aware that the counters were no longer sticky. Or dishes dirty. Or cabinets magically restocked.

And right about the time I wanted to get discouraged, I felt something whisper in my heart,
"But do you notice what's done for you, Liz?"
I thought about that question for a minute.
Was I not noticing the help I was also getting each and everyday? Did I not even see the things that I was undoing again and again that were being put back together for me each morning?

In the brief moment I took to pause and look around, it took me a hot mili-second to notice all the "tidying up" that was being done for me, too.

I have a hard time seeing that even though I am being helpful, I still need a supplier and some backup--like my husband does with his meals.
Sometimes I go about my business completely unaware that I'm making a sticky mess--like my children and their crumbs.
Sometimes I am putting forth a good effort, but could still be shown a better way--like I generously do with everyone's beds ;)
And other times I am just overwhelmed, or outright negligent, and grace puts things back where they belong for me.

In an effort to make tomorrow super glamorous...

I plan to wake up in the morning and pack lunches, help serve breakfast, get the kids out the door, and tidy up.

Only this time, I hope to do it with my newfound awareness, eyes that take notice, and a more grateful heart.

Great is Thy faithfulness; Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand has provided.
Great is Thy faithfulness,
Lord, unto me.