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Guys, most of what I post is pretty funny, because, you know… life is pretty funny. But there is such a wonderful moment I need to share with you, because God delivers grace to me in the most unexpected ways.

Dave and I were done, tonight. We were just at the end. You know that place. You’ve done so much for everyone else that there is nothing left.

Dave went upstairs to check on the two youngest who were in the baby room reading books etc. Or… WERE SUPPOSED TO BE. When he got to the gate, I heard him emit the sound of complete despair and disbelief… a sound I only know is based on really bad things and giant messes. So I ran upstairs. The boys were gleefully relieving a bean bag of all its little pearly foam contents and it was everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Like a winter wonderland in a Burl Ives songbook.

I was seething. I knew he had a hard day too but I looked at Dave and said “This. This stuff happened the entire day and I’m just. So. Tired.” Being a man of wisdom and action, he gathered the boys and ran them through the shower while I tackled the mess. Three vacuum bags later and it was all cleaned up. I closed the gate outside the room and just sat there, slumped over from exhaustion and defeat. The boys ran out of the shower and they were running all over the place (as usual).

“BOYS!!!! GET IN YOUR ROOM!!!” I shouted in a mean voice dripping with everything that had been building all day.

Josh stopped, ran over to me and gave me a big hug.

In my ugliest, my five-year-old… saw me. He saw the sad ending and showed me grace and compassion.

I guess I didn’t expect it from them… yet. Heck, if I’m honest… maybe I didn’t expect it from them, ever. I know I’m selling them short and in doing so, I’m selling my God short, Who takes shattered things and puts them back together with grace and truth. And what better way to put me back together than through my own children.

They’ll be men some day. The desire of my heart is that they’ll continue to show this vulnerability and grace based on a real, living relationship with Jesus, the author of grace. Radical, ridiculous, undeserved grace.

In the middle of a winter wonderland (in a sunny Scottsdale April), I watched my baby boy create a moment of holiness for his mother who was struggling big time that day.

I finished cleaning up the snowy landscape and carried the remains of the bean bag outside to be dealt with at a later time. Never in a million years did I expect this night to end peacefully and in a lesson of graciousness… for me.

The house sleeps now and in the late hours, I think of what else I might learn tomorrow. “At least,” I think to myself, “Sleep will give me some rest and I’ll wake up less mean tomorrow morning.” Who am I kidding? I hate mornings. Gracious Lord, I’d like to pre-order a double-shot of grace in the AM. With whipped cream.