Hey Guys

It's been one of those weekends that leaves me stumbling around with one nostril completely plugged, saying "no" to everything my kids ask me, and feeling great despair that it is Monday.  Feel sorry for my kids, not for me.

I'm remembering a great thing from a wonderful little book that I'll keep recommending, called Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic.  She was talking about the grace we have access to.  But I've got to "get the grace", like reach out and grab some.  Ask for some.
Of course, it is a gift, given by God, and I'm not all Jesus+works.  But I do have to DO something.  I do have to do the work of actively getting the grace, daily bread, the armor of God.
I have access to the Savior and I have His Word, His truths, His mercies.
And yes, He constantly has compassion on me when I'm hard-hearted and gives me that grace just when I'm at the end of myself and coffee didn't save me when I tried to make it my savior, my last nerve is exploding and tears are there and I'm using all my muscles and willpower not to yell at my kids.
Then He, reminds me of His love, softens my heart, helps me love my girls again.  There is that grace that He's kind enough to give, even when I haven't sought it.
But I'm talking about doing the work of getting grace before you reach the brink of disaster and scarring your kids.

So, this past weekend I didn't "get" grace.  When I was tired, I didn't say, "Lord, I'm tired."  When I was lonely, I think I just facebooked.  It was a busy weekend without Daddy and I felt like I was having a heart attack the whole time I was at church.  That's totally wrong.  Well, that's a whole other story that involves girls with severe gas pain just when I should be helping lead worship, and no child care and no Daddy, and Kate trying to go up on stage with me.
Aaaanyway, I was trying to throw the girls in bed (skipping teeth brushing and all.  I was desperate), and Kate said, "but we didn't pray!"
Truth be told, I was mad, grumpy, sad, tired...and I plopped down on Kate's bed and started to pray a fast bedtime prayer.  And even then in my hasty, ungrateful, irreverent, pray-fast-without-even-thinking-about-who-I'm-talking-to prayer, the Lord gave me grace.  He melts a heart of stone when it doesn't even care that it's hard.
I'm comforted that even when I give a pitiful attempt at "getting grace" He just piles it on and loves on me. He cares about our gas pain.  He cares about what concerns us.  He is for us in the details of our lives.  And He smothers us with grace even when we're terrible at asking for it.