A prideful, broken plate.

There it is. The second dish that has broke, in the past month. There are probably more, that I'm blocking from my memory...

In the midst of going to pick up the pieces of this colorful serving dish, I stopped. There I was, on my hands and knees, frozen for a moment. 

I'm this plate.

I'm broken, too. 

It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to decipher how I drew that conclusion. You want to hear something I'm not proud of? My frustration. My moments of using harsh words, throughout the given day. This day was no different, and my reaction, 2 minutes previous, was just the same:

"Daylon! Your hands were too full! If you would've just slowed down, this plate would not be broken! This was one of my favorite plates, and now it's broken! What do you need to say?!"

"I'm sorry, Momma. Would you please forgive me?"

His big brown eyes were a window into the guilt he carried. 

"You're forgiven, and you're loved, Daylon. Please be more careful."

But you know what?

At 11:45 p.m. last night, I had to seek forgiveness from my 5 year old. 

"Hey buddy, you remember when that dish broke, and I said your hands were too full?"

Guilt flooded his face, again. 

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to know what Momma did wrong?"

He perked up a little, inquisitively.

"What?"

"I spoke harshly. I shouldn't have blamed you for it. The real reason I was so upset, was because that was from Aunt Lake, and I really loved that little plate. But guess what?"

"What?"

"It was an accident,"

Relief flooded his face. 

"And that plate is nothing compared to how much you mean to me. You are a gift to our family, and I'm so proud of you being able to unload the dishwasher. I'm so sorry that I spoke harshly, would you please forgiv-"

"You're forgiven!"

Before I could even finish my statement, he forgave, and wrapped his arms around my neck. 

Then Khai, our sound, logical 6 year old, after witnessing both the "incident", and the forgiveness, chimed in.

"You know, Mom? You never even used that plate very often."

My flesh wanted to tell him "Yes, because it's for special occasions."

But my heart, and mouth, uttered the words "You're right, buddy."

It's just a broken plate. 

- - -

The guilt that breaks me? That keeps me up until 3 a.m. typing this?

What if God reacted to us, the way I reacted to Daylon?

Do you realize how much junk I carry, like old suitcases, dropping it in front of God?

What if He harshly told me "The reason you're broken is because you're carrying too much! If you would just slow down, this wouldn't have happened!"

I, being discouraged, would start picking the suitcases up, to get my ugly brokenness away from God. 

But instead?

God gingerly picks up each individual piece, and lovingly, with a firm, steady hand, begins putting the pieces back together. He sees a broken plate as an adventure, a time to refine, heal, restore. I, in my own small-minded logic, see a broken plate as a nuisance, a disappointment, an eyesore. 

I am a nuisance, a disappointment, an eyesore.

But rather than tossing me out with the garbage, He takes my jagged edges, and sands them down, until they're smooth. He takes even the teeniest, tiniest shard, and adds it to the million reasons that make me, me. 

And at the end of the restoration, there are scars, but all He sees was the beauty He originally designed. 

You're ready. Go and serve.

You see, pride is an ugly, ugly menace.

It creeps in, by the name of Justification, and it pushes out sound logic.

It is without a doubt, something I struggle with. 

Which is why, on my fridge, in my children's bathroom, in my bathroom, and so on, you'll see these words:

"Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification, that it may impart grace to the hearers. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:29-32"

I've printed them, and hung them all around my house, so that I'd remember:

I am that broken plate.

In need of grace, and forgiveness. 

If you struggle with pride, or being harsh, I'm going to urge you to remember:

You're not alone. 

The lies the enemy wants you to believe are:

1. You don't need to seek forgiveness.

or

2. If you did seek forgiveness, the recipient wouldn't truly forgive you. 

With that visual, I want you to picture a child leaping from a seated position, wrapping his arms tightly around you, and whispering "You're forgiven."

When we truly humble ourselves, we're truly forgiven. 

God knows our heart.

If you're a Momma of littles, and this typical day resonates beautifully with you, I'm going to challenge you to remember the words our Creator has given us:

"Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry."

(Again, one that I have all over my house.)

I don't want to disappoint my son, like I did today. 

But even more so, I don't want to disappoint God. So when I fail, when I'm weak, when I'm broken, I'll choose to quickly seek forgiveness. 

And when I'm told "You're forgiven."?

I'll extend that same grace and forgiveness to myself. 

If there is one thing that the enemy loves most, it's Mom-guilt. 

Last night, as I went out for ice cream, with a mentor and fellow Momma friend, she shared with me,

"Sierra, looking back there were many times I was quick to speak harshly. I reacted to my then, teenager totally different than how I react now. I should've done better, and been more patient."

She said all of this, not knowing the day I just had. Tears welled up, and my throat had a lump in it. I shared with her, the same I just shared with you. I'm so thankful for a loving friend, that agreed that Mom-ing is TOUGH, but choosing the hard road? The road of forgiving and being forgiven, it's actual freedom. 

If there's one thing I want to charge you with:

You are enough, in Christ.

You will fail. 

Sally Clarkson wrote it best, "Sometimes we will fail, everyday, but that does not make us a failure."

We get back up, seek forgiveness, and keep marching. 

My joy in this, was the warmth from my son, as he hugged me. Similar to the warmth of a sunny day, when we feel like we're being kissed, by the Son. 

Choose joy, sweet friends. Speak life, dear Momma's. And Keep. Marching.

Dear Gracious Heavenly Father, 

I thank You for this day. We know that this is the day You have made, and we shall rejoice and be glad in it. I'm thankful for Your ever-present promptings. The ones that find us, and challenge us to do better. I thank you that I'll never be perfect, but the example you set for us to aim towards, was perfect. I thank you that You've taken my brokenness, time and time again, and simply put the pieces back together, and restored me. I thank You for the forgiveness You offer us all, and pray if there is someone in need of the words 'You're forgiven.", that they'd seek You, Lord. You are a good Father. And I praise You for what You've blessed us with, and for what You've taken away. I know that there is safety, and protection, when You tell me "No." or "Not right now." I ask forgiveness for the sins I've committed to this day. In Jesus' name. Amen. 

Much love to you all. <3