Grace in the weekend.

September 16, 2011

This week has been busy as I've checked off lists at work and at home and in my head. My mind seems like it is a running list of things to do and I visualize my calendar, not seeing an open weekend for many months ahead. (But that's what every year looks like for me between the months of September and January.)

I haven't been the nicest of people this week, letting the list and calendar overwhelm me and turn me into a cranky nag with an attitude. You know when you say something snarky and immediately regret it but you're too annoyed with the world to apologize and coming down off your high horse is not an option in that moment so you decide you'll keep the attitude in your voice and actions and apologize later? Good. I'm glad it's not just me.

God granted me a quick-to-forgive husband in Chris. He does have his moments and he would be the first to admit it. But when I have my moments and I wonder why in the world he is still in the same house with me when I would have been halfway through town if I were him headed to anywhere but under the same roof as me, I realize that he is good to me. And that I don't give him that same grace. 

It's a daily realization, it seems.

We are currently dog-sitting his brother's dog and I am currently contemplating ever getting a second dog. Mia has been the most jealous, bratty little mutt to poor Blue. It looks like we are both in need of a desperate lesson in grace.

After corralling the dogs into their kennels and cleaning up remnants from the evening, we settled into bed, my poor attitude at it's peak. A short goodnight and a half-effort hug and kiss was given and I laid on my back staring at the ceiling.

My mind flooded with everything it's been processing for the last eight months and before I knew it, the tears came. Immediately, my husband reached over to console me, asking what was wrong.

I searched for what to say, and when the words finally came, I said, "I'm overwhelmed."

And the list poured out. He listened to me through the sobs and I said all that I could manage to get out. Sometimes it's more exhausting to verbalize it because then it's real and fresh and you can't take it back.

When I was quiet, Chris spoke up. He talked to me for a good half hour, his words like a continuous prayer for me, for us. Then, I closed my eyes and let my mind rest.

That man deserves every ounce of grace I can give him, so why do I keep it to myself or hand it out only when I feel like it's deserved?  

I'm always learning.


And I'm grateful.

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