grubby hands



Moms often talk about how much they learn from their kids and in all honesty, I don't experience that often. Maybe it's because Elias can't talk - but in general - he's not my greatest teacher just yet. His life spurs me on to be a better believer - a better mother - a risk taker, a lover, a person of wisdom, and a righteous woman. But he doesn't really sit me down and tell me what to do.





This weekend - I did begin to learn so much from his cute little life. Nick was in school all weekend, and Elias was a MESS. Friday afternoon & night - he was all over the place at Kal & Shawn's house and Saturday morning he woke up at 5 - just ready to go. Climbing, biting, just being a little boy - but for the first time - it was just too much for me. Physically, I couldn't really keep up with him and by ten am on Saturday - I was already wiped out.

I was sitting with him and finally had calmed him down for a split second - and I noticed how dirty his little baby hands were. I'm not sure how they were so gross... yucky bacteria under his nails, dried food in between his fingers, and nails longer than most acrylic sets found on women in New Jersey. Just before I threw up in my mouth at his nasty hands, I noticed how yuck my hands were too. My jaggedy nails were long and unkempt, I definitely had way more bacteria underneath them, and I think the mascara from the night before had streaked across the front of my hand from wiping my eyes that morning.

So Elias taught me - we are both in serious need of grace. Dirty hands and dirty hearts - constantly. Today we were singing at Mosaic, Come thou fount. I was certainly stopped in my tracks.

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.
I think that says it all.