Vacation Imagination just called. I won a free vacation. I told them that I’d have to get back to them after checking for any conflicts with my stint on Extreme Home-whatever. But the recording just hung-up on me.

I’m not afraid to say it: doing this mothering thing is a little tricky sometimes. I listened to the whole vacation recording.

I have little ones underfoot all day long, which sometimes causes me to lose perspective. I get excited when crayon boxes are 2 for 1. I hoard Chick-fil-A coupons. And sometimes I need extra grace from everyone around me.

So, my husband let me out of the house the other day. Alone. I went to an overpriced coffee shop and ordered a bowl of potato soup and a cup of water. They don’t even sell kid’s meals there. Waiting in line to fill my cup with water, I spied pretty female execs in dry-cleaned suits waiting in the same long line while their manicured hands cradled overpriced mochas. When my turn finally arrived, I hit the ice machine, poured the water, and moved over to the bowl of lemons.

I proceeded to squeeze a parade of lemons into the trash with my right hand while holding the water with my left hand. I have no idea why I did that. Everyone just waited. I need a mocha.

I hereby apologize to all the happy homemakers who happen to wear Payless sandals and jean skirts. I don’t mean to be a bad example. Recovering quickly, I turned around and mumbled to my impatient fellow line-standers, “Um, those lemons had a lot of seeds in them. Uh, kind of.”

I stumbled to my seat carrying only one tray. (I think I was just off-balance without the diaper bag on my shoulder.) I indulged in a sort of mini-vacation imagination and ate my soup slowwwwly. This gave me 14 minutes to remember and reflect upon why I do what I do.

Simply, I am thrilled to serve God by serving my husband and children. Joy is found in the promise that whatever I do for “the least of these,” I am really doing for Him. When I explain place value, change a diaper, and sweep the kitchen, it is an offering to Him. Even when the schedule goes awry and unforeseen interruptions prevail, they are really divine opportunities disguised as the ordinary. And it is in the ordinary that Jesus has called me to serve Him: day in, day out, without apparent or immediate gratification.

Except if you count homemade “You’re the best Mom ever” cards.

So I finished my bowl of soup, bowed my head, and thanked Him for my calling.