I was wretched as I let my tongue scream a torrent of words that even I didn't know were approaching. I told her how I hated the pennies, all 400 of them scattered over the carpet and how I had spent my life cleaning up those pennies. And to make my words even more ugly, I gathered those pennies with angry gestures and stomped loudly to the stainless steel can to dump them in.
Yes, I was wretched, and ugly, and little ones gathered together because sadly they had seen this behaviour before.
And I stood guilty, wondering how I could blow it again. I sought forgiveness, but the oldest didn't grant it, not until the darkening of the sky.
My thoughts were guilt-smothered as I started laundry and checked the mailbox, questioning all that I do each waking day. Wanting to build up and not tear down because that's what the wise woman does. But like that March tsunami, all that had been built up with much intentionality, seemed destroyed with the self-provoking waves of verbal destruction.
I move through the moments of the day, putting one foot ahead of the other. Wishing to crawl under covers and bury face into pillows to hide away from this reality. I change the laundry over and walk along the cobbled path, still hearing the waves of defeat pounding in my head. The sound of feet on stone echo, yet somehow in the midst of this pounding head and echoing feet, I remember truth. Because even in the grandest of disasters, aren't there always remnants of treasures? Could I try hard enough to find a treasure?
I hear a whispering, "Look for Grace". I can't see any. Not yet.
Hours go by and dinner needs making and gradually grace moments become visible. The treasures are seen.
The tiny hands of the toddler. She's pulling my hands to wash with hers under the running water tap. Could she know that I needed some full on cleansing, not just of hands but of heart too?
The older sister and babe child. They squeal thrilled to be sliding side by side, hand in hand, together. Isn't relationship always sweeter while holding someone's hand?
The husband who first asked, and then listened, while I blurted out about my day. And at the end of it all, he still called me amazing. Words can build up or they can tear down. Can the words from my mouth be guarded and well-constructed?
Look for Grace. It's whispering all around. And mysteriously the disasters of the morning transformed by the evening, after grace treasures were seen. Grace was found.