I read yesterday’s “verse for the day” again before I flip the page: “From the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, the Lord’s name is to be praised.”

“I want to do that this morning,” I pray. “I want it to be a GOOD morning. Not a morning without problems—those are inevitable—but a morning when I keep my eyes on You, not on the problems, when I praise You with my attitude.”

But the question is HOW to do that. Because it’s not like this is a new desire. I start almost every morning listening to Scripture or a sermon, asking God to work in the day ahead.

But carrying it out—oh, yes, how to carry it out.

I suddenly remember a conversation I had with a musician friend recently about how she uses classical music to settle her young children (younger than mine) during the pre-dinner grumpies. And I get an idea: I need music this morning for ME, not for my children, for ME.

So I pull up Gungor’s latest album on my iPad so I can carry it around while we all get clothes on, fill cereal bowls, brush teeth. The kids sing along with me.

“Open your eyes, and wake up!”

Yes, wake up to the GOOD of the mundane, the gifts from God’s hands. Give Him thanks and praise for all of this.

Emily cannot find one shoe. No, she cannot find two, one each from two different pairs. “I remember taking them off in my room last night, but one of them’s not anywhere in there,” she says. I rush up to her room and find the missing shoe in under thirty seconds. My perspective falters. “You know if you’d put these in the basket where they belong, this wouldn’t happen.”

“Come back, my love. My love, come back.” It’s the song “Ezekiel,” God’s plea to wandering Israel to return to the One who rescued her from sin and shame.

It’s His plea to me as well.

I come back.

Out the door, no tempers lost, peace prevailing. I drop off the kids and drive to my school…

And remember it’s Grandparents’ Day.

I have to park way off campus.

I have on a straight skirt.

I have my bag full of papers, laptop, books.

And the real kicker: I have on heels.

I clunk down the sidewalk, cross the street, begin the long walk alongside the soccer field. My iPad still plays in my bag: “Love, love, love of mine. You have caused the sun to shine on us. Music fills our ears, Flavors kiss our lips with love divine.”

Another choice.

I lift my face to the blue sky, feel the breeze tingle my scalp. The green grass of the soccer field, just cut for the game this afternoon, beckons. I slip off my heels and head across it, the soft blades cool on my bare feet.

“Maker of it all,

You provide it all,

In You we live,

In You we move,

In You we have our being.

You’re glorious”

Yes, He is.