We went blueberry picking last week. Friends of ours freely share their blueberry bushes and we are the happy beneficiaries of their generosity all through the summer and winter months alike. Fresh blueberries for the summer and frozen ones for pancakes throughout the fall and winter. Their land yields a thousand delights for little boys, not the least of which is a water fountain surrounded by smooth, small rocks. I lost my boys to the fountain and rocks after about three minutes of blueberry picking. But I knew they and their tummies would return. And they did. Job returned sopping wet from head to toe, telling me that he was wet from the fountain and not from wetting his pants. I had gathered that as even his hair was wet. (smile) I stripped him down to his Lightning McQueenies and off he went to pick, and immediately eat, a few blueberries.
Several weeks ago, I started panicking about being the soon-to-be mama of three children. But if there's one thing I've learned in life over the last several years it is this–– there is always, always, always enough grace. (I'm specifically talking about grace as it pertains to motherhood but I certainly felt this lesson in so many other areas prior to becoming a parent.) In some situations I'd be hard-pressed to agree with my own life-lesson discovery. But deep down I know it to be true. And over the last several weeks, I've felt God filling up my grace cup just in time for it to be poured out, empty once again for filling. And isn't that the case? It seems that you can't store up grace nor can you come up short. Because that's the character of God–– he is always enough.
Today I cried when my Graeme-bear said to me in a very grown up voice–– mommy, don't call me Graeme-bear just call me Graeme. There he stood, folding all of his laundry and Job's too. I feel like I can't handle the crush of losing more one-on-one time with him as we prepare to welcome another little one into our lives. The maddening reality that he is growing up, too. And yet, this growing up of his is a gift of grace. Watching him as he learns more about responsibility and work, it's a thing to rejoice over, not to instead mourn the time that refuses to stand still. (But I will most certainly still call him my Graeme-bear and I will still mourn a little because I can't help it.)
Sometimes grace reaches me in a paint color that finally turned out perfectly, sometimes it grabs a hold of me through written words. And during these last few weeks before our baby bird's arrival, I'm so grateful it found me through a little boy who has triumphed in potty training and another who is falling in love with responsibility. Thank you, Jesus, for your grace and for your love in showing that grace in so many tangible ways, even if it includes blueberry picking in our Lightning McQueenies.