Let me tell you about my day . . .

or my days these days. . .

I wake up most days to the sound of 6 alarm clocks.  The first two are the peaceful, generic melodies pre-programed into my husband’s and my cell phones.  The best part?

There is a snooze button.

LOVE the snooze button.

BEST. INVENTION. EVER.

The remaining 4 alarms are as follows:

Alarm #3: A high pitched wail, similar to that of a fog horn or severe weather siren.  This one has no snooze button and in fact will get louder if ignored.  She is known in these parts as “Papaya” but is often times mistaken for a baby.  Note:  None of our earlier models can produce decibels like this one can.

Alarm #4: This one is called the Cyndi Lou Who.  Her alarm of choice is usually the soft sound of “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy. . .”.  She also has no snooze button but her overall ability to force her parental units from a dead sleep is fairly slim. . .unless she can’t find her blanket known as “Fuzzy” or “Fuvvy”.  Should (God-forbid) that “Fuvvy” go MIA, sweet Cyndi Lou Who can produce sounds that can pierce eardrums, cause extreme embarrassment in public places and break sound barriers.

Alarm #5: The Dom Bomb.  This is something resembling an explosion of noise and blinding energy.  There is no snooze button.  He would emphatically add, “you can’t snooze da Dom Bomb”.

Alarm #6: Bossy-albeit-forgetful-Beagle-who-sleeps-in-my-bed-at-my-mercy alarm.  Kicks issued to my kidneys, alerting me that the previous 5 alarms have all sounded. Three of which are still bothering her REM cycle.  Also, has no snooze button.

The funny thing is, I’ve been thinking lately that this is only temporary.

One day, I will miss this.

One day, my house will be quiet between the hours of 5:30 am and 7 am as I sit and drink my coffee in peace.

One day, maybe I’ll get around to eating breakfast.

One day, I plan on shuffling to the bathroom first thing in the morning without an audience.

One day, I’ll sit with my cup of coffee and watch the clock.  I’ll fiddle with the handle of my mug and toy with the idea that revenge is a dish best served hot and that maybe I should go bounce on the beds my 3, now teenage, kids asleep upstairs.  Maybe a bullhorn would be a nice touch.

One day, I will have graduated from the days of babies and toddlers and moved on. . .

And life is always like that.

Temporary.

We learn, we grow, we get to graduate to the next season in life.

But even with all of our graduating, we never graduate God.

Life was meant to teach us that.

Life is pretty smart that way.

But graduating is necessary because it causes us to grow up and have a more mature relationship with him.

Which is actually really awesome.

We get to grow up.

God wants to be with us that much, for us to know him at an adult level.

That he wants us to know him that completely.  To be able to relate to him and have adult conversations with him.

He wants that.

But even in his wanting, he waits.  He waits for us to grow because the truth is, even with all of our graduating. . .

We never graduate from him.

We are in perpetual relationship with him.

Oh sure, our relationship changes, just like mine will with my kids.  I’ll no longer have to change diapers and contrary to popular belief in my house, I will not be wiping anyone’s butt when they are 18 (don’t ask, you don’t want to know the thoughts that roll around in little minds).

But my kids will always be my kids.

We don’t graduate from a relationship with God.

We graduate into a new depth of relationship with God.

We graduate into a deeper kind of grace.

 But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.

2 Peter 3:18 (HCSB)

I love that we can’t outgrow God.

There is a whole relationship with him that we’ve never imagined.

Whether we’ve been hanging out with him for minutes or years or decades.  He is so full of surprises and mysteries and the conversations never get old.

He will blow your mind if you let him.

And that’s true for every stage of life, every conversation, and every graduating step.