"But He gives greater grace...."
A promise from James 4, something I have been contemplating, repeating, diving deeper inside during this past week. My director is gone, visiting sick relatives on the other side of the world, leaving us in charge.
And I breathe deep, pleading that all will stay well, the babies will stay well, crisis will stay away, that I will not disappoint.
I fail, my judgmental attitude damaging possible friendships and building walls instead of breaking them down. I raise my voice to the child who disobeys. I let the venom and sarcasm spill when I should have been silent.
But He gives greater grace....
And I breathe deep, surrounded by sickness as I wait for the doctor, grateful that my baby's problems are fixable, not life threatening, hopeful. I look into her eyes, tired from a long journey to be seen by a doctor who does not know and does not care. I hold her son for a moment, the skin and bones filling my arms, taking hold of my heart. I know their names, I kiss her cheek. His eyes will not leave my mind.
I am frustrated because one minor problem that, in my country, would never be a big deal, has left healing delayed longer. We must wait, repeat the process. And my deep breathing is released into a very deep sigh.
But He gives greater grace....
I returned today to find her, the mother and the boy with the haunted eyes. I walk around the hospital, asking searching, praying, hoping. I see her, a grandmother with a one year old little girl, sweetest smile in the world. We speak in my limited Tagalog. Cancer, she says. The parents are in Dubai. The world rests on her shoulders. I know their names, I kiss her cheek. Her eyes will not leave my mind.
But He gives greater grace....
"What did I ever do to deserve this?", I question at least ten times a day.
When I am covered with five little bodies who all want to love and be loved.
When my cheeks are wet with their kisses.
When my heart warms with their smiles.
When I watch him discover something so small as water falling from a rooftop. Why have I stopped
delighting in the little things?
When I watch them dance.
When he looks at me with such pride and joy because he is so, so close to taking steps.
When my little brothers tease me, hug me, jump behind walls and scare me.
When, little by little, she begins to trust me.
When, for some reason, the Creator of the Universe allows me the privilege of looking into someone's eyes and speaking life over them.
Even though I am broken. Even though I am so selfish. Even though I am despicable and stubborn. Even though my pride is worn like a crown.
Oh, dear friends, He gives greater grace. Grace to cover a multitude of sins. Grace to sustain in the pain, uncertainty, fear. Grace that restores, hopes, loves, endures, builds.
Grace to cover one even such as me.
And I breathe deep, breathing in this grace. And I come to life.
A promise from James 4, something I have been contemplating, repeating, diving deeper inside during this past week. My director is gone, visiting sick relatives on the other side of the world, leaving us in charge.
And I breathe deep, pleading that all will stay well, the babies will stay well, crisis will stay away, that I will not disappoint.
I fail, my judgmental attitude damaging possible friendships and building walls instead of breaking them down. I raise my voice to the child who disobeys. I let the venom and sarcasm spill when I should have been silent.
But He gives greater grace....
And I breathe deep, surrounded by sickness as I wait for the doctor, grateful that my baby's problems are fixable, not life threatening, hopeful. I look into her eyes, tired from a long journey to be seen by a doctor who does not know and does not care. I hold her son for a moment, the skin and bones filling my arms, taking hold of my heart. I know their names, I kiss her cheek. His eyes will not leave my mind.
I am frustrated because one minor problem that, in my country, would never be a big deal, has left healing delayed longer. We must wait, repeat the process. And my deep breathing is released into a very deep sigh.
But He gives greater grace....
I returned today to find her, the mother and the boy with the haunted eyes. I walk around the hospital, asking searching, praying, hoping. I see her, a grandmother with a one year old little girl, sweetest smile in the world. We speak in my limited Tagalog. Cancer, she says. The parents are in Dubai. The world rests on her shoulders. I know their names, I kiss her cheek. Her eyes will not leave my mind.
But He gives greater grace....
"What did I ever do to deserve this?", I question at least ten times a day.
When I am covered with five little bodies who all want to love and be loved.
When my cheeks are wet with their kisses.
When my heart warms with their smiles.
When I watch him discover something so small as water falling from a rooftop. Why have I stopped
delighting in the little things?
When I watch them dance.
When he looks at me with such pride and joy because he is so, so close to taking steps.
When my little brothers tease me, hug me, jump behind walls and scare me.
When, little by little, she begins to trust me.
When, for some reason, the Creator of the Universe allows me the privilege of looking into someone's eyes and speaking life over them.
Even though I am broken. Even though I am so selfish. Even though I am despicable and stubborn. Even though my pride is worn like a crown.
Oh, dear friends, He gives greater grace. Grace to cover a multitude of sins. Grace to sustain in the pain, uncertainty, fear. Grace that restores, hopes, loves, endures, builds.
Grace to cover one even such as me.
And I breathe deep, breathing in this grace. And I come to life.
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