Grace Jelly {An Evergreen Post}

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

Crushed {An Evergreen Post}

Every once in awhile we like to look into our archives and share one of our more popular posts. So from earlier this spring, here is a look at how God blesses us in the midst of brokenness. Here is Crushed:

Have you ever had a bone crushed? No? Well, I have. And let me tell you in case you doubted...it hurts. Like...a lot. Like I've had two babies and the pain of a crushed bone totally trumps having two babies.

I repeat: a crushed bone is more painful than childbirth.

So, how did I break this bone, you ask? A skiing accident? Car wreck? Putting myself in harm's way to save a small child from wandering out into traffic?

Nope. I was a senior in high school and a varsity cheerleader...and I fell off the top of a pyramid.

The ridiculousness of it is not lost on me.

The days and weeks that followed the accident were excruciating. My left foot broke in half vertically and the small block of bone that connects my foot to my leg was shattered into several pieces. I missed weeks of school, took strictly-managed Vicodin to ease pain, and attended three-times weekly physical therapy sessions. I had a cast up to my knee, but it couldn't go all the way around my leg because of the three pins that for 8 weeks stuck three inches out of my foot. The cast instead was held on by an Ace bandage.

But the most heartbreaking consequence of the break was when we told my surgeon where I'd be attending college in the fall: the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. I remember when he, very-matter-of-factly said, "Jennifer, I'm sorry but you can't go that far away. Your leg is still healing, still fragile. And I'll need you around for therapy."

But, I already had my dorm assignment. And a roommate. I was ready to sing "Rocky Top" and proudly wear that obnoxious shade of orange! Peyton Manning expected me to be there!

Bone crushed. Heart crushed, too.

Psalm 51:8 says, "Let the bones you have crushed rejoice."

In this Psalm David is experiencing some anguish of the soul. But David knows God. He knows this crushing of "bone," of spirit was momentarily painful, but ultimately for his spiritual good.

God was allowing David to experience hurt, so he could know greater things and live a better life.

That fall I began my college experience at a much smaller school than UT, a school only an hour away from my hometown - Western Carolina University.

That winter I met amazing friends. Friends who are still dear to me today.

That spring I laid eyes on the cutest boy I'd ever seen.

And four summers later I married him.

If not for my crushed bone:

I would not be his wife.

I would not be their mother.

I would not live this life.

I would not be this person.

We live through painful experiences both physical and emotional. But just like Joseph who experienced slavery, sexual harassment, and wrongful imprisonment we need to believe that God will mean all these things for good (Genesis 50:20).

A crushed bone. A crushed heart. A crushed spirit.

God loves you enough to give you momentary pain for eternal joy.

Almost twenty years after my injury there is still daily pain, still a slight limp, still more surgeries to be had in the future.

But that crushed bone paved the way for the greatest joys of my life.

So when I take that first stiff step in the morning or feel from the ache that it's about to rain or get "Is something wrong with your leg?" from a stranger I say, "Oh, that's just my crushed bone...and it's rejoicing."

The Red Backpack {An Evergreen Post}

There I was, booking it through the Magic Kingdom. I was fierce as mile after mile I pushed the double stroller that held my two boys. Up one Mickey hill and down every Goofy lane. In addition to pushing my precious cargo in a stroller that was slightly larger than my own body I carried a large, red L.L. Bean backpack filled to the max with every snack, water bottle, wipe, rain coat, extra shirt, shoe, towel, and first aid kit that it could hold. I was a Target on wheels. My 21st century version of Mary Poppins' carpet bag.

To be honest, I felt very impressive. Strong, lithe, the I-can-do-it-all Mom!

Walking in my wake and wondering what in the world I was doing were three people who dearly love me: my husband and his parents. They continually offered their assistance as I sweetly refused. Don't they know I can do it all? I can carry this load all by myself!

See, this is something I'm very good at. Loading myself down, insisting I can do it all on my own...until I collapse with unnecessary exhaustion on my way to ride Dumbo the Flying Elephant.

This week I found myself once again burdened with a heavy load, but this time it came in the form of emotional cargo. We buried my beloved grandmother on Wednesday. It was a lovely home going service.  But the sadness of missing her along with worry for my mother who had just lost her mother, coupled with some other non-related issues that were making me angry - in short, I was crippled with all sorts of sorrow. By Thursday I knew that I couldn't cry. Because if I started I wouldn't be able to stop.

So I put on my big, red backpack of fears, sorrows, and uncertainties. Loaded up my stroller of sadness and anger and I began carrying these burdens through a dark valley that resembled nothing of The Happiest Place on Earth.

But I couldn't do it. I tried to get my feet to move, tried to make it one more step, but as strong as I think I am - I'm just not. Profound sadness continued its threat to overtake me. I was on the cusp of intense anger and self-pity. Strength I have, yes. But not enough to carry this load.

Have you ever been here, friend? Saying, "God, it's too much! I can't hold up these burdens anymore!"

So I asked Him, "God, what do I do with my sorrow? With my fear? With my anger?"

You ask in expectation, sweet friend, and our God will answer:

My child, give your sorrow back to me. Dear one, let me combat your fears. Beloved, I will soothe your anger.

I cried aloud to the LORD, and he answered me from his holy hill. 

Psalm 3:4

In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.

Psalm 18:6

Friend, drop the backpack. Stop pushing the stroller. Park in right there in the middle of Fantasyland. Sit down and eat some ice cream that's shaped like a mouse's head.

Because not only are you not strong enough to carry that weight - you're not supposed to be.

But He is. 

Cast all your cares upon Him for He cares for you.  

I Peter 5:7

Give your sorrow to Him. Turn it loose. In turning it loose you don't become weaker, you have become stronger because you are no longer relying on your pitiful amount of muscle.  

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

II Corinthians 12:10

So, I did. I cried out. I gave Him my sorrows, my fears, my uncertainties. And when I walked back over to that backpack the weight of it was considerably less. The stroller moved along with ease.  

Life has bumps, bruises, and some downright nasty breaks.  But we are still created to live in fullness and joy. I cannot regain my joy by trying to conquer enemies against whom I stand no chance. They will consume me every time. They will turn me into someone I don't want to be.  

Dear one, I will not pretend that I know all of the sorrow and hurt you are carrying in your red backpack, but I do know that no matter how heavy it is, your God is strong enough to bear its load.

We are not meant to spend our days huffing and puffing, struggling with events and emotions that are too much for us.  So I shake off the little strength I have and trade it in for His. With this strength I can get back to the fullness of life and have joy of heart. 

And instead of spending all my energy carrying around unnecessary baggage, I'll choose to spend it on good things that bring joy - like riding a flying elephant with my sons.

LORD on your Holy Hill,

My soul cries out to you. I cannot deal with the shadows of sorrow, confusion, and worry on my own. Take my burdens, God. Show me how to turn them over to you. Return my heart to peace.

Lord, may it be so.