I’m reposting this blog, which I wrote 3 years ago, when my oldest babies were reeeeeeaaaaaly little. It was first published on a site I no longer write on, so I wanted to bring it here. I think many days, it still applies.
I’ve had a….(what do the kids call it?)…a fail week. From kid fevers to spilt milk (lots of it), to mornings gone horribly awry….I’ve been off. It culminated in my not quite losing my temper with my eldest, I mean inches away from losing it (I might as well have) upon finding poop and pee in her underwear, and on the chair, and well everywhere.
She NEVER does this. And I could’ve blamed it on her being sick, and I could’ve swept her up and told her it was ok, and I could’ve graciously cleaned up the mess (which might have also included spilt poop from said underwear on the bathroom rug.) I could have done all of those things….
Instead I wiped away tears I caused.
I stifled giggles at what could have been funny if I’d been wearing the right attitude or if I just made it a practice to embody my husband….or better yet, Jesus Christ.
And even so….she forgave my thoughtless words. She giggled with me on the bed as I braided her hair. We hugged and said I love you’s and te amo’s as we always do.
There was grace enough.
And there is grace enough from my Heavenly Father…for my messes-that are far worse than a little poop on a carpet and pee on a chair. My messes are not so easily cleaned up. My messes hurt people. My messes hurt me. My messes grieve my Lord.