I love the analogy I read on another blog this morning: (paraphrased) Some days are smoother than others; yesterday was like sandpaper.
A series of events over the past few days - little things - have got me in a tizzy. Each thing no big deal on its own, but all together a burden so heavy my heart aches from the emotions of it all.
I stay up late to chat with Steve about it and then I'm overtired.
The kids feel ignored and I think all my work is unappreciated.
I try to squeeze one more purchase out of this paycheck and then I'm over budget.
The laundry piles up. The dog won't stop barking. This broke. Something smells funny. The cat prince howls to be let out. Then in. Then out. Then in. Then to be fed. Then out again. The house plants are dusty. "Mom! She won't stop coming into my room!" Favorite pens get lost. The sewing machine doesn't work. It's too cold in here. We all overslept. It's hot in here. Nobody likes to try anything new for dinner. I moved a shelf and something fell on my head (I have a mark on my forehead to prove it). "Mom? Can I have a party for my birthday?" I can't find the box of Kleenex I just opened. The library books are overdue.
It turns out the public library extends some grace to those who overlook their due dates. "These are late and I'd like to just pay the fine," I said.
"There's a three-day grace period," she tells me. "You're good. No fine."
That's the thing about grace. The days when you think surely you don't deserve it, you still receive it. And it's a two-way street; the times you think you can't possibly muster the grace to offer someone else, somehow you do and you both feel better for it.
Do you know I just about skipped my way out of that library yesterday? All over not having to pay a 30-cent fine. Because after a crummy day just the smallest act of grace was a major bright spot. It made me happy. And it reminded me that I could show grace to others in very small ways that might mean the world to them.
Something to think about.