I wanted to take a minute before the 8th ends (in Alaska, anyway) to boast in today’s weakness. Because isn’t that what I’m doing this month? Sometimes it’s failure, sometimes it’s just weakness, but in all of it, God’s grace is magnified.
I mentioned yesterday that we’d had a rough night with the littlest. Welp, last night wasn’t a lot better. She kind of decided she’d rather be awake and yelling than sleeping. From like 1 to 4 in the morning.
Whatever. It’s a phase, they all do this sometimes. We deal with it, try to guide them back toward something sane, and life goes on. Not a huge deal, in the grand scheme of things.
But this weekend? It’s kind of a big deal. I’m not 19 anymore. I used to pull all-nighters from time to time and it was fine. Now? A night under four hours turns me into a zombie. Back-to-back crappy nights? All I can do is the wide-eyed crazy laugh. (As I write this, I recall months and months of several pregnancies where four and five hour nights were the good ones. So glad that’s not now.)
Anyhow, that’s where I was.
But God, because he’s into giving grace when I’m weak, gave me a morning that my husband was able to come to church with me, rather than going in early. (To say this is unusual is kind of underselling it). And then this afternoon, he (Andrew, not God) took the big two shopping while the little two napped and told me I was to nap “at least an hour.”
It’s a tough gig, but sometimes a wife just has to go with what the husband says.
This is “small” weakness and “small” grace. A couple nights of sleep deprivation doesn’t really rate on the list of actual hardships that people face. At the same time, it was my weakness and my experience of grace today.
Sometimes it doesn’t have to be a big failure to leave room for God to move in your life. Sometimes it’s just a one-year-old with a (hopefully) brief aversion to sleep.
Where did He meet you today?
This post is part of a 31-day series called “Grace in Failure.” Other posts from the series can be found here.
grace enough 
I had a bad morning before church. My husband read out loud from the paper about some woman who saved enough money to buy a restaurant in town, and he sounded so admiring that I got down on myself for not being that woman. I didn’t really want to be near anyone at that point, but there I was in church, one of nine people squished into an eight-person row. And then I taught my Sunday School class of very noisy 4 and 5 year olds. By the time we were marching around the table learning a new song, I was having a good time:) So that’s where God met me on Sunday–in church.
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Yes! I love that he did! Is it awful that I’m so frequently surprised to experience him there? I’m convinced Satan hates mothers of small people in particular and does battle against them every Sunday morning.
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