Gratituesday-Giving Thanks for the Boss Man

Have you ever heard a child yell, “You’re not the boss of me!”  I have. They were playing with another child who was trying to tell them what to do.  There are lots of adults (and teenagers) who have the same attitude. They resent authority figures of any type telling them what to do. Whether it’s  their minister, parents, coaches, teachers, police, even their boss at work. They may not verbally say “You’re not the boss of me,” but they feel that way in their hearts and their attitude shows it.

Today I’m giving thanks that God is the boss of me. I’m thankful he tells me what to do and what not to do (through the Bible) and I understand that He is in control, not me (even though I occasionally forget and take on problems that I should be giving to him).

I’m especially thankful on days like today when things aren’t going my way and I’m frustrated and tired. After spending a wonderful vacation week with my family I am back home, covered in laundry with a list of things to do that seems to be getting longer not shorter. The last two nights I have slept so hard that I can’t believe it’s time for morning already and I need five cups of coffee just to get my heart pumping.

This morning as I was pouring cup number one and trying to unglue my eyelids I heard my husband say, “Hannah Montana is gone!”

Hannah Montana is our granddaughter’s hermit crab that her Aunt Ray Ray gave her (thanks Rachel…not).

“What?” I said and took a big gulp of coffee.

“Someone didn’t fasten the lid to the box and the crab is gone,” Bill said.

We looked through the kitchen and den.

“How far could she have gotten?” I asked.

“Maybe she’s on her way back to the beach,” my husband said.

“Abby will be devastated,” I said.

“So go buy her another crab.”

“Where? They don’t sell them at pet stores.”

“Try Red Lobster,” my witty husband responded.

I had promised a friend I’d meet her for breakfast and Bill had to go to work so we had to abandon our search.

I pulled out of my driveway and hadn’t traveled the length of a football field when a cement mixer came barreling around the curve on my side of the road. I swerved as much as I could without dropping off the side of the road (tree and ditch there) slammed on my brakes, closed my eyes and prayed. He couldn’t have missed me by more than a hair.

There’s nothing like almost getting wiped off the face of the earth by a cement mixer before you’ve had your second cup of coffee and found your missing crab, to wake you up and make you realign your priorities.

So, thank you God, for being the boss of me. For being in control and watching over me. Amen

P.S. We found Hannah Montana in the pantry and she is now back in her box with a stack of books on top of the box.