Friday, March 13, 2015

Rain and the Finished Work

The rain just won't stop and the whole morning was one mess of a panic attack.  I don't know why my body seems to be attacking itself.  One day, gallstones.  The next, a mental breakdown.

It was while driving the kids to school that the gas light came on and the words only 19 miles left screamed at me.  Who has time to stop and get gas when you are trying to get to three different schools, miles apart, all before the clock strikes 7:50?

I rush them, grab gas, head 20 minutes back home, grab the dog and realize this isn't smart.  How does one exactly take the 70 pound dog and the 2 year old pushing-the-boundaries-toddler to the vet in the pouring rain?  Why again did God only give mothers two hands?

We get there in another 20 minutes.  I get the dog out, she bolts (despite the leash) which is to be expected.  I lose her in the rain.  I find her.  I get the toddler in the door at which point he breaks free because I simply can't keep a toddler in one hand a strong Golden Retriever in the other hand. 

I find the toddler.  We get ushered into a room to wait.  I get frowned upon for not bringing in a stool sample.  From the dog, not me.  Was I supposed to go out in the pouring rain and gather up dog poo? How exactly was I supposed to carry the live animal waste inside? I can't even get a dog and kid inside without losing both for crying out loud. I already told you I don't have enough hands.

The toddler sits, screaming in my lap because I won't put him down.  Strong willed? Yes.  Reminds me of his oldest brother at this age.

I get chastised because my 11 year old dog has gained weight.  Well, welcome to the chub club, pooch.

Just give me a sticker and label me as mother of the year.

It is in that moment, as I am trying to contain the ocean about to leak from my eyes that I remind myself of one thing.

I could choose grace in this moment.

It is so hard down here and most days I don't have my act together.  Despite three loads of laundry a day, it is never finished.  Despite eating healthy, the weight won't drop.  Despite choosing to rest, I still swim in stress.

It just keeps raining.

But, I could choose grace.

What would that look like for a mother of 4 who has an overweight dog, gallstones, and a strong willed toddler?

I could read this line and believe it:  It is Finished.

If my relationship with the Father was based on my performance, then I would have been banished long ago.

I need the gospel daily because I am prone to a works kind of religion where I think my acceptance is always up to my actions.

Only grace sets me free and allows a deep breath when everything around me is going haywire.

"Because we are, right now, under the completely sufficient imputed righteousness of Christ, Christians already have an A.  The threat of failure, judgment, and condemnation has been removed.  We're in--forever!  We've been set free."  Tullian Tchividjian

It is finished. Breathe it in.    

1 comment:

Samantha Barnes said...

So good. I am right there with you. My new habit I am trying to form is to stop in the middle of what I am doing when I am overwhelmed and verbally whisper the word "grace." I am actually trying to blog about it right now, and keep finding myself distracted. Glad I was distracted by catching up on this post and being reminded of that same concept.