Life has been a little unlucky around here lately. We’re just not finding our groove, and lots of little things seem to be going wrong. We ordered tadpoles, for instance, to begin our spring study on metamorphosis, and our two little guys arrived limp and completely lifeless. The girls had waited months for them and were so disappointed by their lot in life. Those poor tadpoles were the real unlucky ones.
I always like to incorporate studies about metamorphosis during Lent. It just seems fitting since we’re all trying to work toward being new creations during these 40 days of soul pruning. But what does it say when there was not even a chance for transformation? Maybe I shouldn’t use feeble polliwogs to teach spiritual lessons.
Then a certain little someone who is always fidgeting with everyone else’s stuff broke my super cool, booklight-equipped Kindle case for the second, stinkin’ time. (I should be thankful I even own a Kindle.)
Oh, and yesterday we could not find my keys to the van (they usually are hanging on a set of hooks we have in a hallway), and the spare set was, of course, in my husband’s car. Madeline had dress rehearsal for a play today in which she makes her debut as Pocahontas. I called my husband in a panic (I very rarely call him at work). He didn’t answer. It turns out he was in middle of a procedure. Once he got my message, he thankfully said he could sneak away since we live so close, so he quickly swung by to rescue his ladies (and little man). We ended up being about 30 minutes late to rehearsals. Sigh.
Aside from untimely tadpole deaths, broken Kindle cases, MIA keys, and a few other random bad breaks (not of the bone variety, thank goodness), sleep has been elusive. The night Thomas actually slept for seven solid hours straight (cue angels singing), Mary Elizabeth decided to throw a tantrum for no reason whatsoever during his sleepy stretch. When I finally got her back to sleep, Rachel stumbled in and started crying. Although she usually ends up in bed with us, she’s typically quiet as a mouse and just sneaks in and nestles her warm body in the cocoon of covers. But tonight she was inconsolable, wanting to find Knuffle Bunny (her lovey). I eventually settled her down, too, and I decided to take Thomas into another room. Bleary-eyed and heavy with exhaustion, I snuggled beside him and all was calm and quiet for about, maybe, 20 minutes. Then he woke up not once but three times before the sunlight started to seep through the cracks in the blinds.
Why can’t I get a break? I thought.
Despite the fact that Rachel recently found a five-leaf clover, and a few days later Madeline found a four-leaf-clover, I feel like we could use a stroke of good luck. Maybe St. Patrick will come through for us on his special day.
But maybe not. Either way, we may be just slightly down on our luck, but that doesn’t mean we’re not blessed.
So often people equate being blessed with being lucky. Those lucky people who seem to have it all (um, like me most of the time) are so blessed. That lucky friend who doesn’t seem to work hard at anything is one blessed lady. She’s a natural rockstar mother, and she makes Rachael Ray look like an amateur in the kitchen. Or maybe those lucky neighbors who were able to sell their house, which is half as fantastic as yours, in just a few months when everyone else is really struggling in the housing market. Man, are they blessed.
I’ve been writing about my mom a lot lately because she’s constantly on my heart and mind. Now she’s someone who could certainly be seen as being unlucky when it comes to her health. And, yet, she is one of the most blessed people I know. It’s not because she doesn’t suffer or because things couldn’t maybe be a little easier for her – like maybe that major brain surgery would have done more than rob her of vision in her right eye and would have actually alleviated some of her chronic pain.
What makes her blessed is her ability to find contentment in spite of what may go wrong or what seems unfair. She’s always been someone who is satisfied with the person she is and someone who tries to make the best of what is going on in her life.
When good fortune comes our way, we are certainly blessed. But we’re a blessed people even when we’re most definitely not courting Lady Luck.
God blesses us all. He blesses me in midst of dead tadpoles, sleepless nights, and minor mishaps. He blesses my mom in midst of her suffering. He doesn’t hold out on us. And if we recognize that, if we submit to Him and the life He has planned for us, if we live in the present moment instead of cursing the past or hoping for an easier, brighter future, we ought to consider ourselves very lucky. And very, very blessed.
Have a lucky, blessed day!