Sweet knowing a Father who has the universe takes the time to teach me, humbling.
Again I drive to school and the panic feeling pricks at the heart...
cellphone? Check
wallet? Check
By some silly miracle I recall as I pass the point of no return on the way to school: work shoes.
I have forgotten shoes to change into for work.
Options, options. I remember my mother, who would help.
No, I can't do that to her. I really can't.
But the idea of asking her for at least some guidance keeps returning. Something so trivial, and I'm an adult and I have to call my mother and...
sigh, giving in, I just text her.
My mother, the one who is the image of selflessness in our home, the image of everything I want to be for someone someday, does not text "Too bad" when I tell her of my ridiculous mishap and my flawed forgetfulness; she does not say, "Tough luck,"
no, this woman knows grace.
"I'll meet you for lunch during your break between classes. When and where?"
I don't deserve this.
I don't.
She shouldn't have to do this.
But she does, with love.
And in a busy day overwhelming, I pause for a bowl of soup and baguette to talk to the one who understands and loves me.
As I returned back to school fully equipped for a workday, my Father in Heaven, the one who created grace and the one who is love and who understands even when the whole world does not, He seems to say, "And us? What about us?"
Ah yes.
How great it is to finally see.
How I not only forgot shoes, but I forgot that I can return to my Father and dine with Him, sharing His feast of grace, never too far from a foundation of faith, never too good for salvation and help and my Rock, my Light.
To dine with Him and meet Him in the midst of a chaos I make for myself and surrender ideas of my own self-sufficiency and sip warm mercies and delights slow in vulnerable serendipity.
To know the foundation and be full.
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