Grace

They were running behind. And little mouths were thirsty. And little hands were disobedient. And a mommy who is covered in tired snapped. And scolded. And generally did everything she prays so hard not to do.

And there was a gentle voice that showed the mommy the crying child.

And the mommy instantly repented.

She cuddled. She apologized. She was hugged back with abandon.

Maybe this is what grace looks like.

They haeded out into the sun, laughing, joking, running. Two little hands slipped into hers, no mention of the previous moments, just complete trust in her.

Is this what grace looks like?

The falling, the stumbling, the mommy trying to make her way through a day, a day filled with love and ordinary moments and a just few moments of failure.

Then they ran ahead and the sun was so brilliant that it blotted out the distinguishable and all the mommy could see was their outline bathed in gold.

They were them, and they were light. Pure light.

Could this be grace?

A sinner stumbling forward, falling, rising and bathed in His light.

Grace.