01-31-16 The devil knocks louder on Sunday.

I saw it before he did… Evidence of our current warming trend in the dip in the parking lot. What started off as a trickle sloped down into a sizable puddle about ten feet in front of him. He didn’t see it at first, too busy watching his feet as he walked along. As he came to the edge he started to hesitate. I told him to step around it, but I could see in his face that this was a battle that a boy in Spiderman shoes couldn’t lose. Without a further thought, he jumped in. If I hadn’t been so tired, hungry, and cranky I might have smiled at the impulse, but it annoyed me and I scolded him, insisting that he get in line and head for the car.

I swear the devil knocks louder on Sundays.

With three kids 5 and under, most days have their crazy moments, the moments that make me want to throw my hands up and hide in the closet just long enough to catch a breather or eat a snack. But for some reason Sundays are so much harder!

Stand outside our home on any given morning and you might think, Hey, there’s a normal family in there starting their day. You might here squealing or whining or laughing. But stand outside of our home on Sunday morning and all bets are off.

Sunday is the day that for some reason, we are always running late. It’s the day the baby leaks through his diaper. Its the day my kids get a sudden case of jelly legs. Its the day that no two socks will ever match. Shoes will be lost. Cups will be spilled. Keys will go missing. By the time everyone is in the car and we are headed down the road, everyone is exhausted and grumpy!

I don’t believe in coincidences. Nope.

The devil hates corporate worship. He despises hearing God’s word. And he hates Christian fellowship. If he can throw a wrench in our morning, if he can get us off kilter, if he can fluster us and frustrate us then we can’t be terribly effective can we? If I can’t focus on my time with fellow believers because I’m stewing over a miscommunication with my husband, than he has won that round hasn’t he?

So how do we stop it? By recognizing it. When I go to bed Saturday night, I go knowing that the morning will probably be difficult. So I pray. I pray that I don’t lose my focus. I pray that I don’t give in to my selfishness. I pray that he doesn’t win this round.

Today I didn’t do so well. I got sucked in. I got frustrated. I got mad. I lost my focus. Thankfully the big battle has already been won, so these little setbacks aren’t devastating. I snuck off to the grocery store by myself this evening for a much needed break. I got to exhale. I drank some coffee. I refocused myself. By the time I drove home, I was eager to see my family, eager to hug them and kiss them. I didn’t have to pretend to be engaged, I was engaged. I listened to my children laughing and I smiled. They were calmer because I was calmer. This evening was relaxing and pleasant.

The devil may have won my morning, but he didn’t steal my day!

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