I have been fighting God lately. I have been fighting His grace. I have been fighting letting normal be His grace. I don't want normal. Not yet.
I want to stay where every thought is about Trent. I still want to envision him in his bed every night when I walk up the stairs. I still want to long to race him up from the barn everytime I do chores. I still want to mistakenly set out 7 plates on the table, three times a day, 365 days a year. I still want to keep on finding his same shorts in the laundry every week. I still want to look back and see him in the van and ask if he brushed his teeth. I still want to pause everytime I pass a picture of his. I don't want normal yet.
But there it was, again. Standing at the kitchen sink this morning, filling up the coffee pot with water to make a fresh batch of brew, looking out the window over the farm yard, seeing the sun peeking up, and thinking, just for a moment . . . not about grief, not about pain, not about Trent . . . but just normal thoughts with joy, and expectations, and looking forward to upcoming events.
Grace. Just grace in the normal. I always tend to think that God has to do something grande, with lights flashing and trumpets blaring to shower His children with good gifts. Who would have thought that coffee and a sunrise would be all that it took to reveal His goodness? Again.
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Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
He rises to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for Him!
Isaiah 30:18
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