glimpses of grace

That’s what this whole blog was supposed to be about, wasn’t it?

I’ve been reflecting on this question today, through the chaos of a pre-nap shopping trip with a toddler (disastrous) and a run-around-pay-bills-do-laundry-wash-dishes-balance-checkbook kind of morning.

Glimpses of grace. What were the glimpses of God’s goodness that I saw in this mothering journey over the past summer?

Learning to walk. As parents of a baby who took his sweet time reaching every developmental milestone (read: the kid never crawled), we delighted with astonishment when S. started cruising early and took his first tottering steps before his first birthday. We still marvel at how he becomes more confident, more sure of himself every day. Today he is braver than yesterday; tomorrow will bring even bolder dashes across the living room. I see in his learning to walk the delight that God must take in watching us grow. And I am grateful for a healthy boy who has two strong legs to send him off exploring in the world.

Feeding himself. This child eats everything we set in front of him. I was determined to introduce him to as many new foods as possible before he turned one, in the hopes of staving off picky-eater-syndrome as long as possible. And fingers crossed, he still loves it all, happily stuffing into his mouth whatever we offer. I love splitting an avocado with him over lunch; I love bringing in a basket of fresh veggies from our garden and knowing he will devour them all. (Well, except for this, for which I claim no responsibility.) Sharing meals is a sacramental practice in my theological view of family and community, and I find God in the breaking of bread (and Triscuits and Cheerios) with little S.

Delighting in speech. So far S. has only a smattering of words, but he is able to name the ones he loves: mama, babbo, doggie. In the Old and New Testaments, whenever God gives someone a name, it changes that person’s identity and relationship with God. Abram becomes Abraham, Saul becomes Paul, and the world is never the same. I see the power of name in S’s endless litanies. He can call on us, and we respond; he can do the same when we use his name. It transforms our relationships as a whole universe of communication opens up before us.

It’s been a good summer. We were blessed with more than a few glimpses of grace.

(But lest you think our summer was all peaches and cream, tomorrow’s installment will share some of the flip side moments that brought us grace in the long run, if not in the short stressful frenzy of having a one-year-old…)

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