Thankful

Thursday night.  We are due at small group by 6:00.  Mark is leading the study.  

5:00... I am frantically trying to get dinner in the oven.  Watching the clock impatiently...Where is Mark?  

5:10... I place dinner in the oven.  It is barely in before I have to pull some out to put on the kids' plates. 

5:20... They eat while I rush around and pack up the bag, grab Bibles, notebooks, set clothes out for Mark.

5:30... Mark is still not home.  We have to leave in 15 minutes and he's not here yet.  I refill drinks, get Ella more enchiladas, get myself ready.

5:35... Mark calls.  He's on his way home.  He'll walk so we won't have to pick him up.  I get the kids cleaned up.

5:45... We're supposed to be leaving right now and Mark is still not home. 

5:50... I hear the door, run for the shower, turn it on for him.  Remind him that we need to leave.  NOW.  I help with shoes and jackets, and get a plate ready for Mark.  Out the door we go.  It's 6:04 when we get into the van.  I drive, Mark eats, the kids point out all the Christmas lights. 

6:17... We arrive at small group.  The passage is James 4.  What causes fights and quarrels among you?  Don't they come from your desires that battle within you?  You want something but don't get it.... 

In preparation for our study I'd read something by C.J. Mahaney.  He wrote: "Whenever there's conflict, there's a sinful craving that hasn't been satisfied yet."  He suggested that when you enter your next conflict, stop and ask yourself, "What do I want that I am not getting right now?"  The answer to that question will reveal what is fueling your quarrels.  We talked about that tonight at small group.  Getting to the heart of the issue; the sinful craving, and then dealing with that.

8:20... Heading home.  It is already past the kids' bedtime, *and* my parents want to come over when we get home so that they can give Ella her birthday gift, early.  I just want the kids to get some sleep.  I am already grumbly in my spirit when Ella pipes up from the back seat, where she has just finished her small-group snack: a cracker and half of a muffin,  "Mommy, I'm hungryyyy.  I want more to eat."  So Isaac chimes in: "And I'm hungry too!"  Isaias would have whined about that, too, probably, except that he was already whining about the fact that I'd taken his snack away from him for his disobedience on the way out to the van.

And me?  Well, I responded with something along the lines of [insert snapping, crabby tone here]:  "You know what?  I happen to be hungry too.  I've not eaten since lunch.  You each had a plate of enchiladas and the snack you just finished off.  I have not eaten anything.  So please stop whining about it.  If you'd like something to eat when we get home, we can figure it out then."  You know, something kind of... quarrelly.  And grumpy.  And I stew about it the whole way home.  Me and my martyr self.

We walk in the door, Mark and Isaias head to deal with the discipline issue, I dial mom's number and pass the phone to Ella so that she can tell them we're home.  And then I pull stuff off the couch so that there's actually seating when they arrive.  Grumbly me. 

And then I head into the other room to unload our stuff, and hear Ella dragging the chair across the kitchen floor and clattering around.  A few minutes later she walks towards me.  She's holding a plate with a heated enchilada.  She'd popped it into the microwave herself.  In her other hand she had a glass of iced tea.  And she had a smile on her face.  I knelt down beside her to receive her offering.  And I cried.   I was reminded then of that other verse we'd read tonight.  The sixth verse of James 4:  "But he gives us more grace."  More grace.  Unmerited favor.  Such grace, this.  God's love for me in this outstretched offering.  Before I'd even acknowledged my sin before him.  

Mahaney's question was,  What do you want that you aren't getting right now?  What I had wanted was some peace.  Mark home by 4:30, dinner in the oven on time, and a nice, unhurried meal together as a family.  And then I wanted recognition for the sacrifices I'd made for everyone.  You know, all the running around I'd done-- neglecting even a meal for myself-- to get everyone ready and out the door on time.  Oh, and I would have liked an apology from Mark, too.  Though I know he worked hard today and couldn't help the time he arrived home.  I wanted an apology anyway.  And I wanted to be able to arrive at small group early, maybe, for once.  I.  Wanted.  

And yet, with my sinful, icky self fully evident to all, most notably God, He gives grace.  It came tonight in the form of a plate of reheated enchiladas and a glass of iced tea.