Monday Mornings.

“Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?” (A Child’s Prayer)

Someday I would like to be a bit more polished, punctual, graceful, cheerful, competent, and put together; but since that is not going to happen any time soon I am learning to make do.  On this particular Monday morning I was a bit of a mess.  I slept in too long and woke with a sore throat, lost my keys, had a dead battery and a broken phone charger, failed a quiz, failed a test, forgot my calculator, forgot my pencil, missed class, and even found out about a charge for overdue library books from 4 months ago in a moment of desperation.

Then I went to work.  I am a direct care technician at a care center for disabled people. I generally anticipate being hit, pinched, having my hair pulled, or getting knocked into at least once or twice throughout the day. That’s in addition to the feeding, showering, and changing of diapers. (Sounds like motherhood, I know). Needless to say it didn’t present a very pleasant prospect.  I noticed every red light, every tense muscle, every sniffle from my runny nose.  If you still haven’t caught on, I was having a bad day. Luckily as my bad attitude brooded I stopped long enough to list a few of the things I am grateful for and realized it wasn’t so bad.  I found my keys, I still had surprisingly good grades, I had loaned out my calculator for a good cause, the late fee was waived, there weren't very many red lights, and I do actually like my job.

Then I remembered six short verses of the Holy Bible in Luke 7 that softened my heart.  The widow of Nain was low in the hierarchy of Jewish culture. Besides the fact that she would have been dependent and poor, she lived in a tiny, out of the way village, and was about to bury her only means of support besides a most beloved son.  She was a burden, she was alone, and she was a nobody.  I imagine on Monday morning—or whatever day it actually was—she was a bit of a mess. As she weeps and mourns and worries Jesus travels all night from Capernaum to arrive just in time at the funeral procession of the widow’s son. He comes to raise the dead and heal a broken heart.  He didn’t stop in on his way somewhere else; he didn’t mope, or complain about the inconvenient detour.  He came for her; he came to heal; because the nobody was somebody.

I’m no expert on widows or hardships or Monday mornings, but I do know that God and his Son love their imperfect, inarticulate, inconsistent, inefficient, deficient, nobodies. They love us at our best and they love us at our worst.

11 ¶And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people.

12 Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.

13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.

14 And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.

15 And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.

16 And there came a fear on all: and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people.

https://www.lds.org/media-library/video/2014-01-021-widow-of-nain?lang=eng

I know that in the Lord’s time all infirmities will be healed, the dead will live again, sin will be washed clean, and Monday mornings won’t be so bad. Every red light turns green and every soul is a somebody.