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For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

John 1:16~ESV

It was Tuesday. Yesterday, a day that began as every other weekday, here in the wilderness.

Alarms shock us awake after a fitful night of sleep, or lack of. The popping pain, grunts and groans, grow deep, nagging with severity. The need for help to get off the bed comes more and more each day.

Tuesday has become my favorite day of the week. Crumbs of fatigue are swept up on Monday. Routine settles in.

In her book Simply Tuesday, Emily P. Freeman, calls Tuesday’s the day of small beginnings. 

It’s also the day my favorite podcast, http://modernmrsdarcy.com/what-should-i-read-next/, releases a new episode. Yes, in case you haven’t noticed…I. Am. A. Book. Nerd.

After time in the Word, journaling, coffee and these days a muffin, Lola and I head out for her ten minute walk. By the time we make our way in, the e~mail from Modern Day Mrs. Darcy has popped up. I make myself a cup of hot cocoa with loads and loads of whip cream, settle in, and press play. Journal and pen in hand to take notes.

Yesterday was anything but quotidian. (Thank you Modern Day Mrs. Darcy for my new favorite word~smile~)  No, it was not my everyday Tuesday.

I ease down the hallway between coffee and Lola’s walk to move the small load of laundry from the washer to the dryer. In the dark, I could feel squishing beneath my slippers. I back up, not something a “P.O.T.S.’ie” does with grace. Try again. Definitely some strange squishing here. Shedding light on the strangeness of it, I look down to see I am standing in several inches of water. YIKES!

Easing my way to the laundry room, the great flood grows worse with each squishy step, I make the frantic phone call to my man. Twenty minutes later, barefoot, he wades in. Several hours of sloshing out water, moving furniture and rugs follow.

Seems the washer “glitched,” missed the signal of a low water setting, and pours out the great flood.

The morning, actually the entire day, slid downhill from there. Around noon, attempting to right the ship, I toss out any thoughts of writing, studying and preparing my Sunday School lesson, and do what we ladies do best. Go for the chocolate!

A healthy muffin served with Hot Cocoa and mounds and mounds of whipped cream, my favorite podcast is the only way to go. No sooner had I pushed play, several disruptive phone calls followed. My go to relaxation technique fades quickly.

The rest of my day lost to a most ungracious jackhammer pounding in my head, brain fog, vertigo and excruciating pain. Note to self: next time my sweet man says, “I’ve got this,” listen!

I settle into my nest and choose to rest. Pondering, where in the world is the grace in this day.

Grace upon grace fall with mercy to the beat of the jackhammer in my head. Shows me when shaken up with chaos, standing in flood waters, how much more to treasure these days of pain and hard. Without them, I would miss the slow savoring. I would miss an opportunity to run a wilderness marathon with the God who created me, formed me, just for this.

Space for mundane, routine my body needs.

A trail to run on hallowed and holy ground, where Jesus meets me.

Don’t misunderstand or misinterpret in any way. I am not a super hero, super holy and righteous. Better, stronger, more spiritual than the next, or humble in any way. I cry, I whine, I complain, I sling unholy temper tantrums, stomping my feet along the way.

I suffer from a curse of pride. I am needy and broken. I need the Jesus who meets me here. I grab his grace with greedy hands.

This past Sunday, I mentioned to my Pastor I sleep with my Bible under my pillow at night. He smiled, replied, “how sweet.” I mean to go back and chase him down, the urge to clear it up strong. It’s not sweetness, but need. In the dark of night when sleep is nowhere near and fear, heavy with worry and pain overwhelm, I need HIM, and his words laying close to my fingertips is a tangible thing. A reminder I can touch to know that he is with me in this. I am not alone.

Like the stone that was rolled away on Resurrection Sunday. A stone, moved, a physical, tangible grace for us. Jesus could have walked straight through stone to life. He didn’t need a stone moved. We did. I did. Us, the weak and weary in faith, who struggle in the unseen. We needed it.

Yesterdays chaos, a drenching of grace to remind me to treasure these days.

The wilderness marathon, will be the greatest marathon I will run. Not because I’m a great runner. No…

Jesus has run the race before me and now runs along beside me. 

I am not alone. Neither are you my friend.

I cried out, “I am slipping!”, but your unfailing love, O Lord supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.  

Psalms 94:18~19 NLT

Gifts of Grace

Tammy Mashburn

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