What started out as a Saturday morning drive with my boys turned in to a Saturday morning walk this weekend. A few blocks from the house the car died and wouldn’t start. I wasn’t going anywhere important. Just to check out some garage sales. So I pulled the stroller out of the trunk, got the kids out, and abandoned my nutella latte and my car.
So I drove my husband’s work van to get groceries yesterday. It’s big. It’s awkward. I don’t like driving it.
I don’t consider myself to be the best driver. I’m certainly not a dangerous driver. I’m more likely to be overly cautious, because I know my own weakness. So driving anything other than my car makes me especially nervous.
As I was pulling out of the store parking lot, I stopped at a stop sign. I lifted my foot off the break and inched forward when I saw a car coming. I wasn’t even anywhere near entering the road, but I instinctively said “oops, sorry” out loud. Not that the other driver could even hear me. But I said it.
As I drove home I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s as if by nature I sought out grace and forgiveness. The humanity inside me was crying out for something that could cover my weakness.
We do find ourselves on a desperate search for grace and forgiveness almost constantly. Why? Because we need it. Because we sin. Because we mess up. Because we make mistakes. Because we are seeking out what only a Savior can give.
When I look back and see all the mercy the Lord has poured out over my life I’m in awe. It’s immense! It’s everlasting. It’s new and fresh every time I need it. It’s incredible. It’s amazing.
How I long for my boys to experience that same grace. I want to be a source of it for them. I want them to see in me an example of how the Lord forgives. How the Lord loves. I want to have that kind of grace for my husband and for my friends. I want to forgive quickly and be slow to anger.
And I want to be forgiven time after time after time.
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all-oh, how well I remember-the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:
God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left.
If you’re wondering about the picture, I thought that this pic of Matthew was much cuter than one of me driving the big work van. ;o)