Love Covers a Multitude of Sins

As we navigate through these parenting years, I am often burdened/overwhelmed/grieved by the sin I see well up in our children, especially our older ones.  Such feelings inevitably then lead to grievance regarding similar sins I find  in myself and Eric, as the apple doesn't fall far from the cart.

One morning last week as I was running, I was particularly burdened for my children in regards to less than desirable actions and attitudes I had been seeing.  I was also feeling a bit panicked about the teenage years that loomed in front of us and the difficulty of navigating through all the issues that come with our culture these days.  I felt tired, overtaken and weak--exactly the way a fish must feel swimming upstream.  I spent most of the run asking for forgiveness for falling short in so many areas, asking for grace to cover our weaknesses, asking for wisdom to be Godly parents, and asking for divine intervention in the lives of our children.

That day I felt pretty desperate.  Do you ever feel that way, so zeroed in on the yuck that you are seeing that you are having a hard time seeing any good?  Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed at a situation and so at a loss of words, that my prayers tend to be a few phrases repeated over and over.  On this day I just kept repeating:

'Lord, we need you, please help...Your grace is sufficient for our weakness, please be strong where we are weak...Love covers a multitude of sins...please let your love flow in and cover the multitude of sins you see in us and our children.'

As I finished that run and those prayers, the Lord did not provide immediate answers, or some big revelation, but He did impress one thing upon me: 

Keep praying, keep praying, keep praying...the most you can do for your children during these years is intercede for them.

I have yet to witness a time that the Lord doesn't show up after a desperate prayer.  Now, He may not answer the prayer in a way that  we see fit, but He always shows up.  Always.

This time was no exception.  As I went through the rest of my day and the rest of my week, I felt His presence.  I felt His grace, covering me and helping me in my weaknesses.  And I saw Him move and answer the prayers of a desperate mother in small, tangible ways.

For one, I saw my daughter, who struggles with doing her schoolwork thoroughly and completely, win a small victory in this area.  As I saw her achieve and overcome, I saw God sanctifying.  I was reminded that sanctification comes little step by little step, and my job when I see such victories is to applaud and encourage. 

The sweetest gift of all, though, was how the Lord chose to show up among my youngest and oldest.  You see, these two mix like oil and water.  My oldest, Joshua, a natural born leader who thrives in a well-ordered world has little patience for our last born who is the king of chaos.  His impatience and irritability with our four year old, Owen, was one of those areas I had been desperately praying over.

...Yet God moves and melts hard places in the most creative, unexpected ways...

Owen spent one afternoon last week making valentines with his grandmother.  When we went to pick him up, he proudly sauntered out with his masterpieces.  He walked about our van handing out his labor of loves and each of us exclaimed how wonderful it was.  All, that is, but my oldest.  My heart sank as he tucked his in his book and I wondered frustratingly, 'Why aren't you opening yours?'

But God had a different plan with different timing.

It was a significant moment that needed a more intimate environment than that of riding in a van down the road.  It was a significant moment that needed to include our entire family. 

Thus, as we conjugated before dinner, Joshua pulled out his valentine from Owen: 

Owen and Josh  

Two names listed together in the innocent writing of a four year old.  

Good Brother.  

Nothing else written and nothing else needed. 

Written in a grace-filled, forgiving squibble.

But the image on the back was the clincher:

The heart of a four-year-old finding and cutting out someone working out because he knows his big brother lives for work-outs. 
The Supernatural working out the kinks in a relationship with something super-hilarious.

Using the irresistible, unconditional work of a four-year-old, innocently loving someone who didn't deserve it...

melting the hard in the most creative of ways

Walls came down, laughter replaced bitterness and love covered a multitude of sins.

A mother's prayers answered... 

                            ...a step forward...

And the Father whispered: 

  Keep praying, keep praying, keep praying... 

When a Mama Needs a Shoulder-Transfer

We waited in anticipation to meet him that cool, overcast February morning in 1998, wondering if he was a boy or a girl.  Only God knew, yet truth be told, I felt 100% certain he was a boy.  I had never been more certain of anything, quite frankly.  We had picked out his name months earlier while studying the book of Joshua in our Sunday School class.  I knew in my heart of hearts that he was a Joshua.  I just knew it.  We even had a $100 bet going.  

Eric announced his arrival with fists pumped high in the air.  He could barely choke out the words 'It's a Boy!'

And on February 12, 1998, Joshua Eric Grogan arrived on the scene.

He was wide-eyed and full-lipped, skin as red as an Indian and a set of eyebrows already defined and distinct.  And such an alert baby he was--more so than our other four.  It's funny how much about him is still one and the same.  Wide-eyed curiosity and attentiveness still defines him, not to mention his ability to acquire one mean, savage tan in the summer.  And the eyebrows?  Need I say more?  

I will never forget the day that we took him home from the hospital.  He looked like a little man, wiser than his five days.  Worrisome and anxious first-timers, we snapped him into the car seat, beyond relieved when the nurse came behind and double-checked our work.

We pulled away from the hospital in our charcoal gray Altima, and headed towards the interstate.  My mind was in a foreshadowing-fog as gray as my car and the afternoon sky.  All the grayness merged together as we merged onto Interstate 40 and headed east to our home.  Somewhere along the freeway near the airport as I gazed at Joshua in the backseat of our car, looking enormously small and exposed, a realization fell on me so strongly that it nearly took my breath away.  The reality settled down on my shoulders as forcibly as a fifty pound weight, turning the grayness into a full- fledge black out:

We were bringing a baby home.  A real live baby.  A baby that we were 100% responsible for for the rest of his life.  

My throat suddenly felt heavy and achy while my stomach twisted in on itself, gnawing away at its insides.  Right at that defining moment the weight of the responsibility was so overwhelming and burdensome that I didn't know if I could carry it.  In fact, I knew I couldn't.

Yet, in the still, lonely blackness I heard it ever so faintly...that whisper that delivered a healing balm to a torn up soul: 

'You can't.  You won't ever be able to.  But I can.'

And in the months and years that followed, He certainly did and He certainly has.  He has carried my mama worries, strife and angst far away.  He has chased out the fears of what could happen and what might happen.  He has replaced it all with His calming peace right when I've needed it.  

Even in the times when I forgot to include Him.  When I forgot that He was far more able at shouldering than I was.  Still, He was right there, ready to take over--all it took was an acknowledging, humbling resignation on my part for the burden-transfer to occur. 

While He might not work the circumstances out the way my mind saw fit, He extended His loving, reassuring hand onto which to hold.  Always.

Yesterday I felt some of that dread and fear creep back into my soul as we went to get Joshua's learner's permit, as we got back into the car and he asked to drive for the very first time.  Buckling his seatbelt and putting the car into drive, he looked small and exposed, much like that day many years ago on the way home from the hospital.  Emotions came rushing back and pouring over me so intensely, the weight and burden of responsibility so heavy, that I felt as if it might crush me.  

But before the gnawing darkness could overtake my stomach and mind, I remembered.  I remembered God's words, His light-illuminating words.  They shone forth clearly and most distinctly: 

'You can't.  But I can.'

Today I am choosing to remember--to remember that He is the burden-bearer.  He shoulders our loaded anxieties.  He carries our fears of the unknown and the fears of the what-if's and He puts them to rest.  

Once and for all. 

Today, I urge you to lean in close for a shoulder-transfer.  Allow Him to whisper His sweet-nothings and Word-filled promises.  I assure you, it's more than enough.