I think I just dated myself back to the 1980s with the title, as I hear The Bangles rhyme that song into oblivion, but it seems Mondays are crazy, and the to do list is so long. Weekends were made for fun with a little church thrown in, catching up with family and friends, and maybe a light project, but nothing like the big brick of “to dos” that hits you in the head Monday morning. Makes a girl want to go shop, but not for groceries. I bargain with myself –if I get the top five things done, I can go play. The top five. . .hmmm, maybe the top three as two require hours of my time.
The other day, my sister said, “Can you believe 1990 was seventeen years ago?” At first, I let it go by me without much reflection, then I later thought how recent 1990 sounded in my head. Time has a (not so) funny way of slipping by us, and often I am sorry I don’t have more progress to account for each day. God wants more of me when I feel this way.
What would a day that counted look like? What would make each day feel indispensable, priceless, vital to making a difference in the world? For me, the answer is held in my faith. Others desperately need it, and I would be remiss not to share the real Secret (unlike the popular book with the same title) of my peace, my joy, my love, and my compassion to feel others’ joys and sorrows. It all is found in Christ Jesus. He is the One that makes a day meaningful, makes it count, and shows me what matters. It doesn’t take long to toss the list concept in favor of the prayer concept. When God orders the day, He reveals a (super)natural rhythm and focus to each day to give it meaning and make me more effective, solely with His power, not my own. It’s harder to ruffle my feathers. It’s easier to relax. The day is full and satisfying. When I don’t spend that morning time reading the Bible and praying and reflecting on what God would have me do, I run myself crazy and am terribly ineffective. Time marches on for this world, but “He has set eternity in the hearts of men” (Ecclesiastes 3:11a) so why do we run so fast on the treadmill?