Last Saturday morning I thought I had the perfect window to write a post for this blog.

I had actually started it a couple of days before, and knew this topic would be relatable.

I sat down at my desk in my kitchen and began to type. The ideas seemed to be flowing and I was easily able to track down the quotes and scriptures I wanted to use. Soon, I realized that it was taking longer than I had anticipated – a lot longer…

It didn’t take long, however, to feel my patience wavering with the seemingly endless string of innocent distractions and interruptions. A certain 5 year old kept wanting me to see the progress she was making in her attempt to clean her own room. Another child, this one 10, kept me informed on her plans to play next door with her BFF. Then occasionally the teen would seem to aimlessly wander into my space with a question or two that she, if she were honest with herself, already knew the answer to.

Finally, as I was trying to reread and edit the piece before hitting “post,” I heard whistling.  Growing up, I can remember my dad walking around the house whistling all the time, but as I married woman I can’t remember the last time I heard my husband whistle. Without thinking I found myself asking him, “Why are you whistling?!”

He shrugged his shoulders and responded, “Because I can?” I know and fully trust that he was not in any way trying to sabotage my writing. He is very, very supportive of this space – but the whistling was the proverbial straw that broke this camel’s back.

In an act of desperation to finish, I picked up my laptop and retreated to my bedroom. As I closed my door, I reprimanded myself for not going to Starbucks or Panera or anywhere to write. I finished proofing the product of my last couple plus hours and hit “preview” to see what you would see on the blog. An error message appeared. As I tried to figure out what was happening, the same error message appeared a couple more times. Fearing what would be the inevitable, I hit “save.” I had never lost a paper or a report or a post before . . .

There is a first for everything . . .

In the week that has passed, I have wrestled with losing my work, my thoughts, my time and my effort. I have nothing to show for it and I honestly mourned a little over it.

Maybe God didn’t want me to post it? Maybe Satan didn’t want me to post it? Maybe I should rewrite it? Maybe I shouldn’t?

Maybe I will – one day, but today isn’t that day.

As I have prayed over the whole debacle, I have realized that my lost blog post has brought to the forefront an ongoing, reoccurring struggle of mine. It’s more than just being able to “sabbath,” to set aside time to intentionally rest, reflect and recharge in the Spirit, in the body and in the mind – but I have a definite need and desire to be productive, to leave a mark, to have something to show for my time.

During the school year – which because of my job, is also my “work year,” I procrastinate projects to the summer months. This May I actually wrote out a list of all these things I wanted to do with my summer – clean out the basement, clean out the garage, paint my bedroom, paint the playroom, re-pot some houseplants, have lunch dates with friends, read fiction books, spend quality time with my children.

With the end of June and the beginning of July descending upon us, I am very aware of how quickly my summer is slipping away. There are SO many things I am wanting to accomplish and I am growing more aware that some things just won’t get done. Last week when the blog didn’t get posted I felt that I lost more than my words. The loss of an entire morning was seriously depressing.

The Holy Spirit has gently pointed out that I have a pronoun problem.

I never wanted this blog to be about me – but about Him. Maybe my motivations were off as I wrote that lost post. The heaviness surrounding its loss revealed many feelings of ownership and pride.

My prayer for this summer is that it would be a season where I had the time and could intentionally seek Him. After all, that has been a theme for in my Sunday school class for teens over the last 6 weeks.

But if I am giving Him my summer, then why is the stubborn wallpaper border I am removing from my bedroom walls so frustrating? It is taking so long, I have not opened the first can of paint yet! Again, my feelings and reactions reveal something about my heart. Not that I shouldn’t try to paint my bedroom, but my attitude about the work has left me questioning: Have I really given my time and attention purposefully back to Him? Am I letting Him guide my steps and order my plans?

“Me.”
“Myself.”
“My.”
“I.”

He has used the lost post to show me that He IS answering my prayer for this summer.

I truly want it to be that I would seek Him first and trust that He would add all the things second.

Yet, when my post was lost, I couldn’t just accept it and move on. I complained and felt crummy. I let my feelings cascade into a place of failure – because I had “wasted” my time and my energy. . . .

Maybe I was only supposed to process those feelings and write those words for myself. I couldn’t look at it that way at the time. But with time, comes perspective…

Maybe the post was lost so I would re-examine the why I am doing the things I am doing this summer, so I can re-prioritize my to-do list, so I can accept that, like my house, my heart is still and will continue to be, a work in progress too.

Each day this summer is a gift. My girls will never be these ages again. August will all-too-quickly arrive and the busy routine will return. My prayer is that I will hold MY plans loosely so I can experience the blessings HE is gracing me with today.

I can now definitely and definitively say that I see His grace in the lost post.