celebrating what it is

Last night I confessed that what spewed out of my mouth wasn't right.

This is the worst summer of my life!, was what a Boy-Man heard me say and then tried to follow suit.

Before the words even left my tongue I knew saying them wouldn't be a good choice. But I needed someone to hear my frustration. And I felt as though my feelings mattered enough to wound my family's hearts.

It is true that this has been a challenging summer already.

I've been disappointed that we don't have a true vacation in sight and perhaps resentful that we chose this season for the Boy to play on a developmental hockey team.

But it certainly isn't the worst summer. Because, what is *the worst* anyway?

We're all exhausted from staying up too late--playing lacrosse games, practicing hockey, visiting family and friends, treating ourselves to ice cream, watching movies. Living. In. Joy.

And that's what it is--Joy.

It's true that gratitude changes everything. And so I pause to count. Right now.

That the fatigue reminds us of what we did to feel this way--the party to celebrate a friend's upcoming wedding...the sitting with a discouraged mom and an exhausted father...

That the busyness has been together and we're going in the same direction and not in opposite schedules...

That the book we read together last night humbled me as a parent...

And that, right there, is enough to reel me back to Joy.

I haven't been patient with my Boy as he discovers how to be a man.

This journey the child is on will be a long road for him and I need to remember that it won't happen overnight. I must count today is an important part of those tomorrows.

The Boy-Man's testing me and neglecting manners is being used for purpose. He's deciding what kind of a heart he wants reflected in his character. Having the behavior *I* want for him isn't as meaningful when it's out of pleasing me so much as it is out of *his own choice.*

I haven't been kind to my groom as he lives out his fathering.

The Man-Boy doesn't need vacations away and his adventurous spirit is more alive in the every day than in any other kind of specialness. The regular rhythm of life in all its simplicities matters more to him than long car rides and lists of expectations wrapped in expenses that he sees as unnecessary. I've begrudged his simple life.

There's much to learn from these two men in my every day.

Sickness has been frequent in our house. In the form of spewing words. I thought we were healed from all of that. And I began to think it was my own goodness that finally *got it*.

But the grace and gratitude to be counted is that He allows this. Right now.

The crazy summer schedules. The feelings of disappointment and resentment. The sickness of the mouth.

He allows all of this to show our imperfection and incredible need for Him.

A new dawn breaks and I feel a headache from the fight last night. The fight over pride and anger, fear and control. And my sadness turns toward peace.

I sit near the window and watch the darkness fade and the light overwhelm.

It is what it is. All of this.

And by grace I can See.

He's working in me Patience and Kindness, in the no-matter-what times.

The Boy heard our fight for togetherness. Words pierced the air in their tone and the volume brought tears. He could see the discussion turn ugly and on this new day I think of the grace of this...

     ...How he is learning what happens in marriage, how it requires forgiveness and is filled with imperfection.
     ...How his mother and father aren't everything he may think we are.
     ...And how we choose love in the morning.

It is what it is. {Grace} in every moment. 

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