Not only the amount of laundry grew, but so did our hearts. Years have passed since that August day when God interrupted our family for good. We look back often and wonder how in this huge universe we ever survived those days of endless tantrums, sleepless nights, and innumerable intrusions. But, we did, by a massive helping of grace.
I saw grace tonight at the dinner table. The meal had been cleared, and I took my kids closer to share a prayer request for another little boy who was feeling scared, angry, and sad all mixed into one. His parents were not able to take care of him, and neither could his grandma. This child of only six, though hundreds of miles away, owned a story not too unlike my kids’ story. He rages. His school days are rough. He hates where he is.
We sat together and prayed for this little boy tonight.
That, my friend, is grace.
My kids know that God is real even in the horrible times. They know that hurt happens, but God can heal hurts. They know that prayer works. God listens.
I will never completely understand why God allows these little ones to see life so deeply injured. Yet, tonight I caught a glimpse of an eternal purpose.