There Will Be Wrestling

This last weekend would have been easy to ignore. I could pretend it didn't happen. Pretend my blood didn't boil with frustration towards my son. I could pretend that the kink in my neck is from how I slept wrong, instead of admitting that my muscles tightened from my anger. I could pretend. I could push guilt and conviction under a pretty rug. My pretty pride rug. Whatever you do, don't lift it up! 

And that's exactly what I did, I shoved it under that rug and I tried my hardest to forget about it. I didn't want to take the time to deal with myself. I didn't want to feel my pride crushed. I wasn't in the mood to be humbled. Some days I just want a break. I want to be a mom that has it all together and doesn't have to do any work to be awesome. Some days I want to run away from the pain of my flesh. I want to ignore the help and grace that can change me. I want to do it on my own.

And then I break. I can only run for so long. Ignore. Hide. But my rug can only hide so much.

His soft green eyes look up at me and his words are tender. "It's okay mom, nobody's perfect. I'm not even perfect!" And then he wanted to make me happy again. "Did you know mom, when we go to heaven there will be no more sin or sadness, and we will all be perfect. AND...there will be wrestling! There will be wrestling, right mom?" Tears fill my eyes, and I fall more in love with my son. "Of course baby, there will be wrestling."

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I am thankful that God can use a five-year-old to teach me about the important things in this life. Things that I can't hide. And I am humbled, once again by the grace that has been given to me.

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Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

—Hebrews 4:16

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