A Day of Grace

Sickness simmered at our house last week. The kind of sickness that lingers and drags on, fevers heating and breaking on their own. The kind where Big Boys and Daddy rise early, but crash early, too. The kind where Little Girl nibbles crackers at noon, still in her nightgown. The kind where Nursing Baby is kept safe from sniffles by drinking tired Mama’s milk, day and night.

Grace. I needed His grace. When my eyes felt too heavy and the stack of storybooks felt too weighty to balance on my lap, I needed His grace. When Venturesome Baby attempted yet another sneaky trek up the un-gated stairs and my will screamed, “When do I get to sit down?” I needed His grace.

Aches strained my body as I stirred noodles into the chicken soup boiling on the burner. Coughs sounded from the living room as Rich Mullins played softly from the CD player.

Let mercy lead,
Let love be the strength in your legs.

Love. Yes, only love was keeping me on my weary feet. Love for my family and for my Lord just barely kept my self-love from bubbling over with the soup. I needed His grace.

After dinner, I tucked blankets up to runny noses, my own shoulders shivering with a chill. Plans for an evening on the couch looked iffy as a sharp tooth threatened to break through Cranky Baby’s gums. Lord, why now? I can’t handle anymore today. I need to rest!

But “the wisdom of the world is foolishness in God’s sight.” Perhaps instead of a pity party into my pillow, I needed another dose of His marvelous grace. No, I couldn’t handle more, but He could. “Let him who boasts, boast in the Lord.” So kneeling on a floor littered with evidence of our sick day— books and hankies and discarded stuffed animals—I asked for His strength.

Grace. He offers it not once but again and again and again. He holds out His hand, reaching for my trembling weak one. Brushing the dust from my knees, He guides me back to His path.

And in every footprint that you leave,
There’ll be a drop of grace.

That’s the beauty of grace.