Just one of those days.

It was one of those days. Where somewhere in the middle of the day I thought to myself, "I wish I was the one working." Where I got jealous of my husband traveling to the south of France. Where one thing after another, after another, seemed to go wrong.

Baby wouldn't nap. Kaleb peed on the couch. Kaleb locked himself in the bathroom. Kaleb dumped my favorite cleaner (brought from the US) out on the floor. Kaleb had diarrhea... on the bathroom rug. There were more time outs than I can count and I was irritated to be washing all my dishes my hand. (Which has been a new normal for the past six weeks, so I should be used to it.)

Oh, and I didn't answer the door when the UPS man buzzed because he was here yesterday... and I was too embarrassed that I was wearing the same shirt and hadn't showered. (Like he would have noticed or cared.)

We've all had them, we've all been there. But here's the thing: The ending was beautiful.

I was reminded... yet again... that it is such a blessing to stay home with my sons. Just when I felt like I may never see fruits of my efforts again, God showed up. He always does.

He showed up in my attempt to quiet my crying baby. As he fought against me and then gave into my embrace. He breaths got deeper. His cries quieted. And finally he relaxed in my embrace.

Don't we do that with God all too often? We fight against Him or against His plan for us. He picks us up... and we realize we are safe. And we are loved.

And God showed up at bedtime. I cuddled up next to my three year old in his toddler bed and read "The Leaf Blew In" at least five times- alternating who read. Watching him pick up his pudgy little pointer finger and scan it from word to word... left to right... and remember parts of the story line. Well, it reminded me that my persistence isn't wasted. That I have the world's biggest responsibility in front of me: To raise my children. Who will become adults. I can't give up. I have a huge task, and it is important. 

My eyes had already started to water a bit at that point. Holding my firstborn. Watching him "read" his book. And then came prayer time. And I might not remember everyone or everything he prayed for... but by the end I was in tears.

That's when he looked at me with his bright blue eyes, started to sit up, and said, "Don't be sad, Mommy." And then reached toward me, motioning for a hug, and said, "I just need to cudd-wle you."

He put one arm around me and he took that same little pudgy pointer finger and traced the tears coming down my eyes. In that moment I was reminded that God's grace covers all my shortcomings. That He is working even when I feel I have nothing left to give. And that is beautiful, indeed.