Hunting for grace

I have had a difficult week. 

Certainly, there are people (actually, a lot of them that I know) who had worse ones. But the fact that "it could be worse" or "someone had it worse" doesn't really mitigate "difficult." (Another post for another day.)

There's a trip that I'm super excited about, but it involves taking a pair of toddlers on airplanes BY MYSELF tomorrow, which I have not done before. Also, it involves "trip sleep" which is, traditionally, no bueno. Guess who's been focusing on anxiety about the plane rides and night times rather than that I get to see some friends and my sister and her husband, whom I expected not to see for at least two years when we said goodbye in April? Yep. Guilty.

Childcare stuff... We have a thing we have to be at in several weeks. The kids can't be there. It's out of town. We'll be gone four days. We have a huge support network here, but for many good reasons, none of the people we're related to could watch the babies for four days. I have some close friends with similarly aged kids who my kids are comfortable with. Nope. Failure was not an option, but it was looking pretty inevitable.

Under all of this (and some other things, both significant and otherwise), my emotions and body were on a kind of high-alert. I was crying or getting mad or debilitatingly anxious for almost nothing. It was like PMS on crack... except it wasn't. I have no real reasons for this, hormonal or otherwise. Just a hope that it eases up before I get on an airplane tomorrow. 

So why in the world am I blogging about this at seven in the morning?

The purpose of this blog is partly to process stuff (hello, free therapy!) and largely to find and declare God's grace in the ins and outs of my life. So I'm hunting for evidence of grace.

Out of James:

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

I'm supposed to be counting this joy. I'll be honest... Jesus saved me when I was three. I bet I learned this verse probably by the time I was 10. So in two decades of knowing I am supposed to do this, I am still not terribly good at it. OK, not really good at all. 

But I am good at counting.

So why don't we start with that? I'll keep it to numbers I can reach on my fingers.

1. We did, after several days, find someone we trust to watch the girls.

2. The fact that it took so much frustration (and tears. So many tears.) means that I was taking it for granted. I need to know that. 

Again, out of James,

"Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.  Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil."

I don't usually see myself as the type of arrogant or entitled that assumes things are just going to work out exactly the way I want them to. But sometimes it sneaks in anyway, and it's a good thing to see it, so I can look at it correctly.

3.  Little trials prepare me for bigger ones.

Before David killed Goliath, there was a lion and a bear. (here.) On a very, very small scale, this is that. This week, it looks like enduring a few days of frustration over childcare, seeing God is faithful to take care of us, and using that as ammunition against my anxieties over travel logistics. (You know, like all His faithfulness before that should've been used to combat my anxiety over the childcare thing? Yeah. I should mention there are a lot of things I'm not good at.)

4. Steadfastness.

I like the idea of steadfastness. I need steadfastness. Especially this week. And these "trials of various kinds" produce that. 

And then there were all the little bits of grace, mostly unrelated to these struggles...

My husband showed me a lot of compassion when I specifically didn't deserve it.

It's getting light in the morning. There's this gorgeous pastel sunrise I can see out my window.I'd take a picture for you, but the camera's packed.

Coffee and breakfast quinoa.

A new squishy nephew that I get to hold pretty much daily.

So many songs. Music has an ability to calm and refocus me.

A chance to cuddle with Baby K last night. 

Little J sat through church yesterday, even though it ran 50% longer than usual. (Well, "sat" may be a little generous, but I didn't need to take her out.) 

A spontaneous visit with my sister-in-law and her little dude that gave she and I a chance to talk the fast, fragmented, funny way moms do and gave us all a break from routine.

A Saturday trip to the playground with the girls in the sled. (I joined them halfway through, because my sweet husband took them by himself to give me a few minutes of quiet.)

All of these "little" graces remind me He his here. He sees. He sees my crazy, my still-don't have-anything-down-yet, my tired, my stressed. It matters to Him. He didn't leave me alone. And He won't. And there will be more little graces (and some big ones!) today and tomorrow and the day after that.