What is Your Best Thing?

Today, I did something amazing.

Relative to those people who are doing really amazing things like working to alleviate third world hunger or pouring out their last bit of creative soul to paint beauty that makes humanity catch its breath in awe, my amazing amounts to nothing.

But what if today, I choose not to measure myself and my amazingness and just claim it?

So, here it goes.

I had made a plan.

Arriving at my favorite nearby coffee shop, I scanned the room for an unoccupied two-top and easily found one tucked in the corner.  I claimed my space and took a few minutes to spread out all of my stuff, using every inch of the 2’x3′ real estate the table affords. As I glanced at my writing setup, Relief and Joy embraced one another, like two dear friends might who don’t see each other often enough.

The thick aroma of coffee beans roasting reminded me of why I had come here.  I made my way to the counter, ordered the smoothest iced coffee this city has to offer, and glanced at the beveled glass built-in, placed strategically to the right of the cash register. It appeared spacious because it was empty, save one almond croissant that sat alone in the left corner of the display.

Instantly, I thought to myself, “Don’t even look at that.  First of all, it’s not even chocolate so it’s probably not worth it.  Second, you aren’t even hungry…and moreover, you came here to write, not eat a bunch of flaky, sugar filled buttery goodness. Stick to your plan, sister, and just get the coffee, and go!”

And then, I did it.

I did my best thing that I’m probably going to do all day.  I ditched my coffee date that delights in delivering guilt on an empty, calorie-free platter.

I ordered that croissant.

And in the span of time that I have been writing this entry, all that is left of the homemade almond croissant is miniscule, golden crumby pieces and leftover almonds that I could still consume, but only  if I pick up this white diner sized plate and lick it clean.

Today, I will have done so many meaningful things that mothering books and Bible truth and how-to-live internet spaces will affirm.  Like hug and kiss and squeeze my adolescent sons who have hormones starting to spill all over in their strange and changing body language.  Like take a break from washing syrupy dishes and attempt to put a few puzzle pieces together of a jigsaw puzzle while my 9 and 7 year old giggle at how slow mommy is at this.  I’ll even pour out renewing grace over and over again for my toddler, and maybe my husband, who in our family, really deserves it more than anyone.

But I’m still going to bed tonight and counting my best moment, my best thing, as making a choice not to let fear overcome my sensibilities.  Today, my best thing was stepping outside of myself for the sake of myself. And it tasted good.