"Oh, boy, what's going on here I thought."
My body didn't want to move. It longed for the security of my blanket: aloneness. I could hear them, the kids and my husband in the kitchen scrambling around.
"Oh gosh—there's so much to do. Where do I began?"
Finally, I rise. Go to the bathroom, run bath water, brush teeth, wash face, face them— my family. Then I remember her and her teaching us: "Do the next thing."
"But I don't want to do the next thing." I want to stay here and wallow, wallow in self-pity or whatever it was I'm feeling.
He beckons me to come, bend the knee—but I don't. I ignore Him.
"Do the next thing," I hear. I do the next thing and the next thing after that and so on and so forth.
"From an old English parsonage, down by the sea
There came in the twilight a message to me,
Its quaint Saxon legend, deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me, teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration—"DO THE NEXT THING."
Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity, guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows, Child of the King,
Trust them with Jesus, "DO THE NEXT THING."
Do it immediately; do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence, tracing His Hand
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence, safe neath His wing,
Leave all resultings, "DO THE NEXT THING."
Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering) be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance by thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee, "DO THE NEXT THING."
~ Author Unknown
Whatever your hand finds to do,
do it with all your might