Celebrating the Small Steps

I walked out on my back step to put some stuff in the recycling bin.  Felt something wet on my socked step.  Looked down.  Big ol' pile of chicken poop.  I know, right?  Aren't chickens supposed to poop in a chicken coop?  And for that matter, LIVE in a chicken coop.  I mean, I don't live on a farm.  That's lucky, cuz if I did, the chickens would eat all of my crops.  But, I digress......what I was meaning to say is that I didn't cuss.  Chicken poop on foot.  Furious.  All kinds of thoughts.  All alone.  And I didn't even THINK a cuss word.  See, small steps.  Very small, I realize, but hey, I'll celebrate whatever I can.
And I've been home this morning after a failed going to church attempt.  I thought that I could do it.  Forgot that husband was singing.  Thought that I could sneak in on back on opposite side as usuall...what do you know, all those church goers were huddled toward the back like a mouse hiding from a cat in a corner.  So, I decided to stay in the lobby.  There are a few chairs.  But, I kid you not, there were TEN greeters in the lobby.  Literally.  And nobody could possibly let me quietly enjoy the music I was listening to.  Shoulders sagging, I trekked back out to my car and did my grocery shopping.  I almost went to the church down the street but I think that the times are different.  I'll check for next time, so I'm prepared.  I don't think that I have a lack of courage.  I have a hard time explaining all of the emotions.  One is simply that it is so hard because that has been my "home" for nearly 17 years.  I don't have many places to call home.  My husband knows that.  He knows that I have nowhere to run home to.  Unfortunately, it doesn't make him compassionate, it makes him less caring.  He figures I don't have anywehre to go anyway.
I am trying to curb my thought life as far as what could happen to make my life so much easier.  Trying to stay in reality and not wish he would get a job far away or whatever.  Trying not to imagine having my room with a bed I'd want to sleep in.  That's hard because those things made my heart rise.  Made me feel like there was hope.  And, honestly, it is what I think.  I'm so finished that if I were bread, two minutes more and I'd be a burnt crust.  Seeing him up there singing almost made me weep.  Not because he shouldn't be but because he used to tell me that I shouldn't take communion if we had had an argument or were not getting along......wow, really?  I remember how it made me feel.  And now, I kind of feel like that again.  Like he's up in front of everyone and feels confident.  Llike he has the feeling that he is right.  Or holy.  Or worthy.  He has always treated me as if I'm not.  And, the thing is....I'm not.  Only by grace.
Makes me so appreciative of grace.  Of small steps.  Of learning to understand that I DON'T get it right.  Hardly ever.  But that God makes all things right and new. 
So, I'll celebrate the small things and continue to face my day with the joy and peace of Jesus Himself.  He is here.  Right here.  In this house.  I am not alone.