Grace

Grace.  It's my oldest child's middle name.  And, boy, do we both need it!   I absolutely love the hands-on lessons God teaches me through parenting my children.  Usually when I'm lecturing teaching my children about God's best for them I hear that still, small voice that is speaking those same words (only better) into my soul.  I've attempted much character training as the-blind-leading-the-blind.  I mess up in being patient, kind, loving, forgiving, etc. while I'm encouraging my kids how to produce the fruit of the Spirit.

I sinned against my oldest a week or so ago in an ugly-scary-momma kinda way.  As she sat on the bed crying,  we discussed that mommy had sinned in her anger and that mommy was wrong.  I asked her to forgive me, and for a very long 4 or 5 seconds she just continued looking down at the bed.  I held my breath.  She finally looked up at me smiling, arms spread and ready for hug and said, "Always, mommy!"  Now that's pretty awesome.  Grace extended to me by my 9 year old when I didn't deserve it.  How much more does my Father in heaven lavish me with His grace and mercy.  He's the Potter and I'm the stubborn clay.

I'm a mess.  A mess that God loves.  A mess that my children love.  A mess that God is, praise His name, not finished with.