When Saying 'Grace' is My Saving Grace

Grace: I need it now.

Grace: I should have shown it five minutes ago.

Grace: Lord, I need it in order to get through the day.

Grace.

I've said it more than a few times today, and I'm not talking about the prayer before meals.

I'm talking about something I draw upon when I feel like I have nothing to offer the world, let alone those who depend on me most.

Grace.

In the last twelve hours, I've needed a lot of it.

My daughter wet the bed.  I try to be patient about it and understanding. On the outside I tell her it's okay as I change the sheets, but sometimes a voice is saying, "She's three, for crying out loud.  Other three year-olds are doing this.  Why can't she?"

Grace.

My one year-old son won't sleep.  I've tried letting him cry it out, the soothe and remove technique, rocking him, everything. I've read the books, but he must be one of 'those' kids no one writes about because none of the expert advice is working.  Why is he adamantly refusing something he so desperately needs?

Grace.

After hours of working outside all day, my husband enters the mess and the chaos inside and asks for coffee and a snack while he washes his hands. I want to scream at him that I don't have time to adhere to the kids' needs or my own, so why should I even consider his?

Grace.

When I feel like my children... *sigh* Just. Aren't. Learning. When they seem to have a sixth sense that can identify and attack any weakness on my part, whether it's anxiety, exhaustion, a short temper, or a large to-do list.

I need to show them grace.

It was pointed out to me by a dear friend.  I was telling her how hard it was for me to forgive people.

My friend listened intently and said, "Aren't you glad that God doesn't have our limitations?  That He has loved us since the beginning, has known everything we've ever done wrong, every time we've ever fallen short... and yet He still loves us. He hasn't always approved of the way we acted, but He knew we were going to continue to grow in His presence, and He gave us the grace to do that."

Grace. 

The words were coming from my friend's mouth, but the message was coming from above. You see, I'd lived in a world - had honored a world - where achievement meant everything. And although I'd been taught it from a young age, grace meant nothing to me.

Until that day.  The day where I couldn't forgive a person for hurting me in a relatively insignificant way years ago.  The day I was losing patience because my two year-old and infant didn't know the rules of, well, life just yet.  The day I was holding a grudge against my husband for not knowing what I had been through the entire day.

And suddenly, God showed me what grace was.  Grace was Him, loving me.

Me? Could you imagine? Through all of my mistakes and all of my messes.  He showed me grace before I was even born, dying on a cross to show I was worth it. He has shown me grace for thirty years - even through my teenage years!- and he still does it, every hour of every day.

At one point in time I've been a faltering child, a rebellious teenager, a condescending adult, a judgmental Christian, an unloyal friend, a liar, a bully, a cheater, a sinner. I've been that person who usually grates on my nerves.  But I was forgiven through grace.

And I need to pass that kind of grace on, through acts of love, forgiveness, and patience.

I fail.  A lot.  But in the times I do succeed, the times where I close my eyes before I react and mutter, "Grace" under my breath, I can feel God's goodness washing over me.  And that goodness is so pure and honest and kind and understanding that it leaves my heart and becomes part of my mouth and my actions and reactions. 

When my son won't stop crying, I say it.  When my daughter spills orange juice all over the kitchen floor, I say it. When my husband's words are harsh, I say it. When a co-worker is abrupt, I say it.

Not all the time.  I still have a long way to go.  I'm still a hot mess that only He can clean up.  But I'm getting better every day.

In fact, the biggest obstacle of showing grace I've faced is this: to show grace to myself.

It's hard.  No one knows how horrible I am like I do, because they're not in my head.  They don't hear my judgmental thoughts or see my jealous appraisal of what others have. They don't see me lose my temper at home or neglect my kids and my house and my husband to, say, write a blog.

Ahem.

There are more times than I care to admit where I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, where I'm trying to be everything to everyone and I feel like I'm failing each person who is asking something of me.

I was late for church today because I underestimated the time it'd take to get ready. I didn't get any of my "to-do" list done for work, and the laundry is still heaped high in the hamper.

Grace.

It's the only thing keeping me together as I reach for a packaged meal in the cupboard, the kind where you can taste the added sodium, but not all of the added preservatives.  I tell myself that once in awhile, these kinds of food are okay for my family to eat and ignore the fact that we had a similar meal yesterday.  

My Pinterest is like a vault, where great ideas go in and nothing comes out.  Well, except for inappropriate e-cards I send my friends.

My home is clean at first glance, but my husband does it after he works all day.

My kids may or may not have discovered food remnants on the floor and eaten them for a snack. I may have went inside just for a second and come back out to see that my toddler son somehow got on the trampoline.

Grace.

I've got a lot to work on.  My kids do.  So does my husband, my friends, my family, my coworkers.

I can't solve every issue that they must confront, and I most definitely can't judge them for having the same problems that I do.  But what I can do is show them what will help them heal, and what will help heal me the more I practice it:

The Saving Grace that was (and always will be) a free gift.