I wonder what my purpose could possibly be here on this earth, in this moment, as I’m picking silly putty out of the carpet. I wonder if this moment was one that you foreknew or if this one didn’t just accidentally happen.
Piece by stringy piece. Pick, stretch. Pick, stretch.
Is this what you, in your all-knowing wisdom, ordained for me today?
I wonder if it wasn’t some humorous scheme. A, let’s get ‘er, type of deal on this day when she’s already tired and somewhat exhausted from the tedium. Laundry is still not folded and dinner was a half-hearted attempt. Floors are never really clean for if they are but for a moment, in the next they aren’t. Did you sit back and think – ah yes. silly putty. Surely that is her great purpose in this moment. pick. pick. pick.
Or is silly putty the scheme of someone else altogether. Someone tiring me out and causing me to question the purpose of the mundane of my everyday. Someone wanting me to throw up my arms and declare, “Is this it? Surely God can not be real if this is what He has planned for a life of following Him!”
And then I see. I can worship here, face just inches from the aged carpet. I can praise him for life. For children who play with silly putty and never ever remember to put it away. I can praise him for a home that isn’t new to be living in, for carpets already spotted from those that lived here before us so that the sight of some silly putty doesn’t hurt my soul or the perfection of our home, it merely adds another spot to the already spotted. I can praise Him because for the first time today I have stopped. Slowed down. Just sat, in the middle of my sons floor and thought about this day and these moments and how blessed I am for even this.
Thank-you for silly putty in carpets and for time to count my blessings while picking it out. For this was a moment foreordained, as they all are. Predestined by my great, all-knowing Father. Silly putty. Who’da thunk it.