Where are they?

I thought Tuesday started out as a normal day.  Really, I guess it did.  Things went off track as I was leaving to walk our dog and I went to look for my keys to lock the house.  They weren't in their usual spot.  Where were my keys?  I briefly looked for them but thought I would find them when I got back.  It wasn't imperative that I locked the door.  20 minutes later I was back.  I spent some time looking in the likely places, then the probable ones, and finally the "I have no idea how my keys would have ended up here" spots.  No keys.  I prayed.  I didn't freak out.

I started to think about all the things I couldn't do without them - drive the car to drop the kids at school and get myself to work was the big one.  (We had a house key hidden that I could use to lock up.)  Even walking to school/work wasn't that big of a deal on that day.  It was beautiful out and the distances are not long.  But I was still agitated.... where were my keys?!?  I searched my memory about the night before.  I had stumbled in a sleepy state to get the mail and walk the dog.  I remembered coming in to the house with mail in my hand but had no recollection of where I put my keys.  What could I do?  The clock was ticking and I needed to move on.  Up to this point I still had remained relatively calm.  I thought about crying or panicking but decided against it.  The faith-filled response was to trust God.  So I did.  I prayed a simple prayer about finding my keys and trusting God with the situation and started with the regular morning routine.

What happened?  Yes, it is a happy ending.  Not long after my teenage daughter came and said, "Guess what, Mom!  I found your keys!"  And here is the reason I am writing this blog: not to report on God's answer to prayer (which He did!) but rather to share with you my emotional response which shocked me.  I felt flat.  Intellectually I was glad that the mystery had been solved.... I hated not knowing where the keys were.... but my heart didn't rejoice.  I didn't feel grateful.  I thought, "what is wrong with me?"

Instead of being grateful, I thought, "Why didn't I look in that drawer where Abby found them?"
Instead of feeling relieved, I felt irritated with myself.
Instead of rejoicing (thinking about the woman who loses a coin in Luke 15:8-10), I berated myself.

By God's mercy, it didn't last long and I came to my senses, thanked God, and went on to make breakfast.  But the experience stood out to me because it showed me something that it within me.... a desire to blame instead of receive grace... which is essentially the fruit of pride.  Blame keeps the attention on me.  Blame holds me to a high standard - something I "should" be able to achieve.  Blame fights grace and mercy because they are undeserved and blame thinks "if I had done things differently, I would be able to take the credit".

There are many passages I could go to right now but I want to end with this one and its amazing, powerful, humbling truth:

"For it is by grace you have been save, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works so that no one can boast."  Ephesians 2:8-9 (NIV)

peace and grace,
Tracy


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