“Grace is the face that love wears when it meets imperfection.” -Joseph R. Cooke

I’m cooking dinner and hear an upstairs crashing followed by scrambling scurrying of mancub feet. There’s a collective pause-that space where a mama of wild blessings listens for broken glass and tears. Maybe the pause is from me, or the boys; likely, from both. We wait in suspended time and weigh the impact of our choices.

No glass.

No tears.

I climb the steps, unsure of circumstances I’m climbing toward. Seems there was a heated debate on whether it’s best to brush first or floss. One kiddo had confirmed with the dental hygienist that morning: floss first. The conversation between these mancubs of mine escalated from intention of sharing this floss first truth to the reality grabbing dental floss picks and trying to floss his big brother’s teeth. Escalation continued.

Intention and impact both matter, people matter.

There had been a moment of choice from both: conversation and conviction both available, yet chaos was chosen. Intention barreled and the impact was hurt hearts. So, what next? Apology given; yet, apology without heart change is mere words.

It’s after dinner, close to bedtime. I send them to brush teeth and hold my breath. Will they collide over dental floss again? Will they even speak? Did we learn anything at all-that this world does not revolve around us?

Growing mancubs get out their toothbrushes, the youngest quietly hands his big brother the dental floss first. They floss, then brush, quietly together with peace.

"The Christian shoemaker does his duty not by putting little crosses on the shoes, but by making good shoes."

- Martin Luther

I’m guessing it’s because my mind is in garden mode. My soul reminds me over again to stay sensitive to pruning that needs to surrender quick before spring arrives. Are there weeds that were missed, begging confession? Removing weeds offers energy to roots. Are there dead branches, weighing heavy? Harsh prune, eradicate them-opening space for healing. Even in the hibernation, healing is happening. Winter sun, short days, notice the warmth and offer thanks. Look around the garden, what is around you, what is missing? Not people, not plants-just your soul. What do you surround yourself with? What deep down in your roots is missing? You may need to pluck some weeds, prune some branches. Preparing for spring growth starts now, here.

We live in a world that low base teaches us that the loudest, most aggressive woman wins. Paired with church messages of a Proverbs 31 wife standard of perfectionism, you end up with a world of women feeling weary worn, less than defeated.

I’ve wondered if the “real” Proverbs 31 wife would shake her head, bury her face in prayer for this current generation.

Walking out of lockdown doesn’t look like you think-it can roar anger or have stronger purpose. It cannot do both.