Sometimes cleaning looks like worship

It's been awhile since I've felt this way, all messed up inside.

A few hours of sleep stolen doesn't seem quite enough to steady the patience I need.  What we all need is love poured out in words and actions, because love is patient and love is kind.  All I am offering today is edgy tolerance.

But words from a smart mouthed boy pushes the balance of emotions too far and I'm am spilled out all over the floor.  There it lays, an ugly mess of words that don't speak love into a soul that needs to hear that what I have for him is unconditional.

What I have given is an order to take it all to his room.  Out of sight, out of mind, out of the range of me, imperfect me who can't stop the mouth from spewing out the sickness of a weary heart.

I settle into mindless scrolling and try to forget the give and take of pain.  Cries of the wounded reach me, and I shake regret from shoulders.  I'm forgetting again all about the blessing of grace received.  This God favor poured out and over me, a good and perfect gift from above.  The only kind He gives, because He is good and his love never gives up and when I spill all the ugliness out he cleans the mess with snow white robes of grace.

A tear trailed face moves into the room and right up beside me.  "I'm sorry, Mom."

I hesitate at how he is bigger than me.  Feeling small, my own words offer what they should have done before now, "I'm sorry, too."

This is grace.  Loving beyond yourself, laying down pride and offering up apologies and forgiveness.

We both grow today -  a little closer to the image of the grace giver.