It’s Sunday morning. It seems snarkiness is at its best these mornings. We fluster about and get the kids in the car. I can’t find my notepad that I use during the sermon to take notes. Frustrated. The children are put in their classes and I hear the littlest one crying. My heart sinks. We hold hands and walk to where we’ll sit. We set down our beverages and stand to sing. It’s dark and the music is loud.

And I drift into His arms. My hands surrendering to Him.

The busyness of the week seems to melt away as I’m reminded of His love for me. The words we sing comforting this tired and worn soul. And He opens my eyes. I come running to Him thirsty for His grace. My children come timidly seeking my grace. He offers agape. I offer a stipulation.

“If you do this then I will love you more.”

Those words never leave my lips, but they work themselves out through my actions. A raised eyebrow. A huff. A turned back. And through this realization my heart breaks and the tears stream down. I sing loud and with eyes closed tight. This unreal love. This amazing and undeserved love brings me to tears most every Sunday. The time when I rest from the troubles and into His arms. My day of remembrance of where I came from to where He has brought me. A love I have never known before. How can I show this love to my children? How can I be in a constant state of remembrance?

Never say “Amen”

I hear a story of a little boy asking “Why did you say ‘amen’? Shouldn’t we always be in prayer?” Oh, isn’t it the youngest that teach us? Never say ‘amen’. Always, always stay in your Father’s arms. He is forever with you. Yes, He sees us all nice and dressed up on Sunday mornings but He doesn’t take the rest of the week off. He sees us also at our worst. Our ugliest. And yes, He loves us even then. It is impossible for us to understand His grace and His love and that is why I am moved to tears. He doesn’t beat us down emotionally and make us feel guilty for our sins. But oh we do that to each other. No amount of eucharisteo can ever express my love for my Father. I thank Him by loving and showing grace when, to us, it seems unwarranted. Oh how He loves us. I thank Him with tears.

Blessings!

{Linking up with Unwrapped Tuesdays at Chatting at the Sky }

This past weekend I went out to meet some ladies for coffee. This is a big deal considering I rarely ever leave the house. Not because I’m a hermit, just because we do life in our house. We’re in the stage of life where playdates are difficult to attend because of homeschooling or sicknesses. So getting to go out {alone} is a nice break from the everyday.

I returned a couple hours later to my family. I shut the car door, walked to the porch, opened the front door and walked in. No big hoopla awaited me. Now, whenever my husband comes home, whether it be from work, a business trip, football practice, grocery run, etc, my kids stampede each other to see who gets to hug him first! I’ve even gotten in on the fun and snuck outside to give him the ‘first’ hug. It really is fun. However, my jealousy surged when the same expression of love wasn’t shown to ‘mom’. I walked in and they were lying on the couch watching a movie. And boy-oh-boy did I let them hear it!

“Oh I see! Nobody cares if I’m home! But if DAD comes home you guys are knocking your sisters out of the way!”

{and just a side note, I really wasn’t saying it in anger, I was just pointing out the obvious. Jesting almost.}

The excuses came pouring from their lips. But I couldn’t hear them. I just nodded them away.

And then it happened.

Hours later, near dinner time, my second daughter approached me with a piece of paper. I held back tears as I read words that could only be written from her heart.

I don’t know why she wrote about my looks but I imagine at some point I must have mentioned something. I mean, as mothers, don’t we occasionally slip about how we didn’t get a shower or how we don’t look as put together as so-and-so? I do wish I knew what it was that I said so I could apologize. But nonetheless, I won’t lie, my first thought was how sweet this was. My second thought was that my loving husband had put them up to this. I was very thankful to hear that he hadn’t. My Evie had written this ‘contract’ on her own and had each of her sisters sign it.

And I became the prodigals sons brother. I wasn’t satisfied with the daily love they showed me, I wanted the grand appreciation. I wanted the running to the door when I was already being spoiled with hourly kisses and hugs. As I read the note over and over I was broken to the core.

“Gratitude begins when my sense of entitlement ends.”

I truly want to get to a place where I am content in all situations. Apparently I am not there yet. But we are all learning. We need to show just as much grace to our children that we want them to have for us. I am filled with so much eucharisteo when I consider all of His grace and the grace my children and husband show me. May I reflect all they have shown to this humble creature.

“Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.
{Luke 15:25-31 ESV}

Blessings!