Attitude Check

Seems funny to write about an attitude check when I think for the most part, my attitude has been very "in check" these days.

God is good.
And the visual dance moves I displayed at a worship practice a couple of weeks back may be proof of that.
I don't generally exhibit dance moves.
However, they seem to be becoming part of my reality and the fun that goes with reminding myself that joy is real and joy is good has removed the shame from demonstrating my lack of skill in the rhythm department. (I'd like to offer kudos to my high school youth friends for this recent revelation.)

However, about the attitude check...
A huge piece of my life as of late has been one of those pieces where a forced response of "good" seemed to be the answer when anyone asked how it was going.
And it was good,
only I was letting the not-so-good be the reigning voice in my head.
I've been frustrated and so coming up with the very diplomatic, politically correct responses that sometimes go hand in hand with trying to be "proper" and pretending to be real at the same time seemed the only good response.

I had a chance to sit and reflect for an afternoon this week.
A treat for anyone,
but I took it as a gift.
I had a number of hours to step back and find the good in what has only been "good".
And I found a lot.
Many reasons to see the gifts,
to acknowledge the hearts,
and to see what really lies beneath the surface.

It seemed more than complete irony, then,
when I opened my evening devotional only to discover that the focus of the day's reading was on attitude.

The writer talked about how difficult situations have the opportunity to harden us or soften us.
We can respond to "heat" as clay,
and let it harden us and make us brittle,
or we can choose to be wax,
inviting the heat to mold and shape us.

It was then that I realized how necessary my afternoon had been.
How God was reinforcing in me the need to trust Him with the tough stuff;
to know that He wants to mold and shape us
and that He wants us to find Him in each piece of our lives.

Because He's there.
And when it seems like He isn't,
it's because I'm choosing not to look for Him.
Or letting myself be convinced that I can figure it out on my own and so I don't really need to invite Him to step toward me and identify His presence.
Sometimes it means just re-evaluating the way I'm praying.
Perhaps not asking for what I think is needed,
but simply allowing Him to mold me and make me what He wants me to be.

Because when I'm open to it,
and really trusting,
and really seeing each part of my life
as His and not really mine at all,
my perspective changes
and brings the joy
that lets me laugh
and really, truly answer that indeed,
it's very good.