Pumpkins and stews and carrot colored leaves, it was the perfect fall day. Cameras were aimed at children who rode horses and played outdoor games. Music could be heard for miles. We were there for hours.
But minutes before leaving; it happened. My whispered voice was stern; my words were cunning and sharp and went straight to the heart of my child. The evidence was a quivering chin and eyes defying the tears that wanted to fall. The behavior needed correction, but when the spewing was over I regretted every word.
Grace. Why didn’t I just give grace?
Moments later we both apologized and it was done. But not really.
I couldn’t fall asleep that night. I hit the rewind button and heard my own words over and over. I tiptoed out of the bed and into the room where my little one was already asleep.
Maybe I wanted to apologize again. I wish I had handled it differently. I wish I had loved instead of lashing out. My throat was tight and I could feel a lump forming. I just wanted to fall asleep and be done with the day. I closed my eyes.
And God gave me grace.
Grace that covers my stinging words.
Grace to spite my demanding expectations.
Grace that loves when I’m far from lovely.
And grace in the midst of motherhood.