Interrupted by Grace on Day Nineteen

I had another post planned for today.

But God…

Sweetboy informed me, this morning, that he hates it when I “go all psycho” when we need to get out the door for church.

Y’all.

I couldn’t even.

I had to take a minute and just slump down and cry.

There are Sundays where we all pitch in and work as a team to get out the door. It takes the type of planning and forethought that I’m sure even Bobby Fischer could appreciate.

Honestly, the child is right. It’s a rare morning, Sunday or not, without some sort of “For the love, child, GET YOUR SHOES ON” statement being made as I wrangle everyone out of the house. All The Planning is something I’ve let slide. Plus, it wears me out. So I don’t plan often. Or enough.

Clearly.

In that moment, I just wanted to hang up the towel and sit on the couch with some coffee and have a good pity party. Wouldn’t lamenting the fact that God forgot to give me a stronger “planning gene” be a better use of my time than sitting in church with my mind going over and over that terrible horrible conversation with Sweetboy?

No.

And I could feel Him gently nudging my heart, and telling me so.

The kids were nowhere near ready, but I was. So, Sweetman stayed behind and they did church together, at home. Sweetboy was picking out some worship music and Sweetgirl was running upstairs to get her pretty pink lamby Bible, as I left.

Why did I leave without them?

I needed to.

My own heart needed to be able to get quiet and be surrounded by the voices of some faithful. It needed to glide into a pew and worship the God of grace. More importantly, sometimes, this girl needs to retreat and regroup.

I really needed to do that, most of all.

And here’s what Grace whispered: “You are here. Be still and let me remind you of what I have overcome so that you can come confidently before me.”

So, I did. I got real still and just tuned my heart to grace.

And when I got back home, everyone was happy to see me and share what they’d done for “church” at home.

We all snuggled in as I explained how hurtful it was to hear that mama gets “psycho” in the morning. Sweetboy then explained how yucky it makes him feel when I’m rushing, rushing, rushing some mornings. Important apologies, laced with all sorts of grace, took place.

It become painfully clear that even though planning takes a lot out of me, it is in the best interest of my mission field down the hall that I do it. And, I do believe that God will honor my desire to provide a less chaotic kind of morning routine.

Grace interrupted my morning to rain down on me, even as it showed me the need for some change. That’s what Grace does. It loves me too much to leave me where I am.

I am so thankful.

Yes indeedy.

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This is day 19 of my Write 31 Days challenge.