Grace Jelly

My oldest son, for better or worse, is exactly like me. He is inquisitive, creative, and wholly excited to live life.

But, like his dear mother, he has a one-track mind, a tendency for the dramatics, and a decided opinion on the right way to do things.

We run joyfully through life, Wyatt and I, but sometimes we trip over obstacles in our way - those obstacles usually being our own two feet.

Tuesday was a tough day at the Smith house. Wyatt pulled a red card (RED!) in Kindergarten that day. Once he was home the behavior did not improve. Long story short, he was sent to bed early without his night time snack (a truly horrid punishment to any five year old).

At this point I, being his emotional doppelgänger, was HOT. Done. Yelling, angry, out of patience. My patience wasn't running on fumes - the tank was dry and the car of gentle, kind Mommy was five miles back down the road. I sat down on the couch replaying everything the child had done that day.

But...pitter patter. I heard his feet coming to the bedroom door. Creeeak - the door opens. And there, staring out at me from the darkened bedroom, are two big blue eyes. Just like mine.

My husband (always the voice of reason): "Jennifer, he's scared in there."

Begrudgingly, I walk down the hall. I hear his little feet running back to bed. (The same little feet that had tried to kick me a few minutes before.)

I walk to the bed and lay down, and there he is, weeping tears of repentance onto his pillow. "Mommy, I'm sorry I was bad today. I'm sorry."

I tell him I love him. That it's my job to make him a good person. I reassure him. And then I ask if he's hungry.

The silent nod - yes.

He humbly walks to the living room and sits on the carpet. I walk to the kitchen and fix toast. Dry toast.

He's been bad, right? I mean, I'll feed him, but he doesn't deserve his normal, frosted strawberry Pop-Tart.

"Mom, can I have some grape jelly?"

"No. This isn't a fun snack. This is just to fill your belly and then back to bed."

Another nod from my boy, accepting his punishment.

But then...my heart. My repentant child. Who, in earnest came to me. Admitting sin, accepting responsibility. Accepting his dry, tasteless toast.

I take his toast and walk back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, take out the jelly. And I slather it on.

And, in that moment, that jelly becomes something altogether different.

It became Grace Jelly.

Because, you know what? I too have been the weeping child, admitting guilt. Accepting the condemnation. But, my Father? He forgives freely, with joy, and offers me grace in abundance. I serve a God who walks my weeping, guilty self into the kitchen and offers me food.

And do I even need to ask?

He gives me toast, cut into triangles, no crust, and spread corner to corner with sweet, filling Grace Jelly.

Hosea chapters 5 and 6 tell us that when we come to the Lord in earnest repentance He will "heal us (6:1)."  As big as my sin is, His grace is still bigger (Romans 5:20).

My Father is the best and most perfect example of parenting. What is good for Him is most certainly right for me.

So my sweet son ate his toast and grape jelly.

Because, his mommy, who he is so much like, has been given Grace Jelly many, many times before.

And I will certainly eat it again.

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that will pardon and cleanse within

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that is greater than all our sin.

~Julia H. Johnston