Saturday I woke up feeling sorry for myself. I looked at the calendar and started counting, “one, two, three...ten days until my husband gets home.” I should confess that I have been blessed (cursed?) with the personality of most writers I know. We’re a melancholy lot who thinks entirely too much. At least I do.
Prone to self-pity, it’s a matter of discipline to not dwell on the dark side.
And God is good, folks. He has showered me with grace during this past week, and I am trusting that His grace will be enough this week, too.
Because it always is.
Even when things are difficult, or maybe especially then, God’s grace abounds.
Yesterday it was 57 degrees. Above zero. Have I mentioned that I live in the greater Chicago area? That’s nothing short of a miracle, people. Watching the noisy boys ride their bikes yesterday afternoon and horse around with the neighborhood kids? Grace.
Friday night three girlfriends came over after all of my kids were in bed to just hang out and laugh, try to watch a movie, and eat cardboard weight watcher popcorn. Nobody mentioned the huge mess and crunchy floor. Grace.
On Saturday morning my sister-in-law came over and picked up all three of my children and brought them back after lunch, ready for a rest. Grace.
My in-laws plan to pick up the noisy boys every day this week and take them to school for me, so baby b. can have an uninterrupted, long nap. Grace.
Our calendar this week is full of playdates and invitations to share dinner with friends. Grace.
“I forgive you, Mom,” offered Twin A. when I apologized after losing my patience trying to tie three sets of shoes and get out the door in time for church. Grace.
Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. (2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT)