My Redeemer

I need you to know that we are not a picture-perfect family. We don't greet each other with cheek-kisses and spend the day polishing our halos.

We are just a family in every messy, wonderful, chaotic, amazing sense of that word. We fail. We hug. We disappoint. We pray. We yell. We forgive. And we push on together toward Jesus.

This morning was ugly on an epic level. Nose-to-nose yelling, fists-clenched, ultimatum-spitting, foot-stomping ugliness.
And that was just me.

She was nasty. I was furious. Then I packed her up and sent her to school.

The hours ticked by and I wallowed. In anger. In guilt. I paced and wrung my hands (and my heart) and wallowed some more.

In the end, I had no idea how to fix it. I couldn't find the magic words. I couldn't come up with an action plan. I had no parenting wisdom. I just knew we both needed more of Jesus.

So that night instead of tucking her into bed for her reading time, I invited her into my bed and we talked. We were honest and vulnerable. We both apologized and then, in the sweetest prayer session I have ever been a part of, she prayed for me and I prayed for her.

Jesus is many many things to me, but he is first and foremost my Redeemer. Not only did he redeem my life on the cross, but He is ready and able to redeem even my messiest moments if I let Him. As I paced the house, determined to drown in my own guilt, He was there. Patiently waiting. Waiting for me to surrender my stubborn anger, my need to be right, my expectations, and my foolish pride. When I finally ask for His grace to seep into my daily struggles, I watch in wonder as He takes my crappy choices and my miserable failures and redeems them into something breath-taking.

Jesus delights in being a Redeemer.