A Tsunami of Grace

source: solan.annafora.co

I keep thinking back to last Thursday, a day when I did a huge face-plant in my battle against anger as I parent my children.

It began innocently enough--while trying to cajole my oldest daughter to swallow a pill for her cough. I had decided that she was old enough, had already tried multiple times with moderate success, and gosh-darn-it she was going to master this life skill...that day.  I'll just fast-forward through the messy details, but suffice it to say, she was not having it. 

And so, we came toe-to-toe in a smack down of wills that left us both reeling and, by God's grace, running to Jesus, together.

I still do not understand what happened, exactly.

It was sort of like a tidal wave that came in, then back out, and we were left soaked (and not just metaphorically, I might add, as her refusal to swallow a pill involved spitting out multiple glasses of water).  It snuck up behind us, as we were wading up to our ankles, digging up seashells with our toes, and then the wave overtook us, and the sand beneath our feet shifted, and we were left gasping for breath, sputtering in surprise, and fear, and shock, staring at each other and silently assessing the matter of whether or not we were both OK.

Was that a tsunami wave of adulthood that just nearly wiped us out?

Was she exerting her will...and was I realizing there wasn't one little thing I could do about it?

Was I crazy?  Or sane?  Or both?

Angry or scared?  Or both?

Was she, is she, my daughter, or a woman...or both?

Or maybe I am thinking of this all wrong.

Maybe it came in more like the tide...inching in, almost imperceptibly, until we both realized--looking eye-to-eye, as we are close to the same stature these days--that our beach towels are soaked and the sandcastle we have built over these last few hours has become a soggy clump of sand.

But, for all the craziness of that fight, I am thankful that by God's grace, we ran to Him.

The ancient Romans have a saying: Ira furor brevis est, "anger is a brief madness."  I am glad that Jesus Christ is my--is our--sanity.

"At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever..."  Daniel 4:34a

My daughter and I sat cross-legged together in the middle of her bed with a box of tissues, holding hands, crying out to our Heavenly Father in prayer for forgiveness and for His help to enable us to love each other well, all to the sound of our soggy clothes thump-thump-thumping in the dryer across the hall.

We wiped each other's tears, squeezed each other close in a hug (when did she become so bosomy?), and told each other we didn't want to go down that dark and angry road again.

We walked past that fallen sand castle, moved our towels up closer to the dunes, bent down together on our knees, and sunk our hands deep into the sand to rebuild.

Relationships are like that:  Messy.  Real.  Unpredictable.  Chaotic.

Sigh.

I think what surprises me most is how angry I got, and how quickly it came on (as if I should be surprised by my sin and my continual need of God's extravagant grace!).

I concur with the words of author Anne Lamott: "[Kids] help you see that you are as mad as a hatter, capable of violence just because Alvin and the Chipmunks are singing when you are trying to have a nice spiritual moment thinking about ashes [on Ash Wednesday]."

Amen, sister.

Mercy.

The reality is I am a worse mother than I ever feared, but God is more gracious than I could have ever hoped.

Author Melissa Kruger so eloquently puts it:

A grace-based response to both success and failure [in parenting] is worship.  When we find ourselves growing into the moms we hope to be, we overflow with praise to the One who is at work in our hearts.  When we find ourselves failing once again, we thank God that our sins are fully paid for in Jesus.  His grace is sufficient for our weakness." --from Walking with God in the Season of Motherhood

I know this won't be the only argument, the only bump in the road, the only battle of wills I'll survive with that daughter, and with the two children coming up alongside her.  But I am grateful that Jesus sees, knows, and covers us all in His grace.

Jesus, wash me clean in the never-ending tsunami of your grace.  Soak us to the bone with your righteousness, in every minute of every day.

Thank you that you are our sanity.

For YOU are our only hope!

AMEN.

Source: ognature.com