ah, this is so good. I need this.
Maybe this truth will help me be in a better mood,
give me a better attitude,
help me focus in the right place.
Thank you, Lord.
Thank you for mercy,
How my heart longs for that true fellowship of believers.
Wait. Is Phoebe fussing? Didn’t the downstairs neighbor say that she can hear Phoebe crying sometimes? Does she think I’m a terrible mother? I better go make sure Phoebe is okay.
My eyes snap open. Despite the one million times I have told her not to, Ellie has climbed into her doll crib, and, obviously, the bottom fell out.
ALREADY? I just wanted to listen to this one song. I just wanted two minutes and fifteen seconds of peace.
“It’s not your fault, It’s my fault.”
Before I can even open my mouth, my two year old short circuits the thoughts that would’ve made this situation all about me and not about her. All about guilt and not about grace.
And somehow, we have a quiet conversation about how important it is to listen to mommy and to choose to obey, even if my eyes are closed. And I gently remind that little girl that she has her own crib and this one is not it.
And somehow, the bottom of that plastic doll crib fits right back in there and it’s almost like it never broke in the first place.
And somehow, He keeps finding ways to be Immanuel. God right here in our life. The God who came to live with us. The God who isn’t only there when I have a quiet space, ancient prayers, and cup of coffee, but the God who wants to be found. Right smack in the middle of crying babies and disobedient toddlers, if I will only ask to see him. The God who doesn’t need silent spaces or special weekends to change my heart.
The God who is right here in my living room, making me new.