Last Thursday my son became ill with a severe intestinal bug. I have never seen him struggle with one so fierce. It has been days of cleaning up, changing sheets, throwing away sheets, scrubbing and sanitizing. Also in the adventure was a trip to the ER for IV hydration and medications. Poor guy has been through it. It was no fun for me either.

The first evening when he woke up, he and his bed covered with vomit, I kicked into mom mode. The cleanup was not fun. It encompassed a large span of space. Once I got that cleaned up, there was another bigger mess waiting for me to clean up, and so was the chorus of the next several days. One thing that keep surprisingly capturing my attention was the grace God was giving me in every moment of all the messes. Very briefly on several occasions I wanted to complain. Before the words could even take full root in my mind, much less form from my lips, I found myself praising God instead. I would say this is not the natural bend of my heart, but praising God has quickly become much more my default through no merit of my own, only His.

I was praising God for the opportunity to take care of my son. I was praising Him for the opportunity to clean up, wash and care for my son because just seven months earlier he nearly lost his life in a tragic accident.

When you stand in the shadow of death, you often discover the shelter of gratitude. The mundane in the midst of the messy become little fountains of joy that water your soul in parched places.

I felt the searing sting of near loss, and anything but gratitude naturally felt unnatural. Anything but gratitude felt dishonoring to the deep appreciation purposed from a place of such pain.

Suddenly I was grateful for:
Good mattress protectors, washing machines, latex gloves,
Lysol wipes, Lysol Neutra Air spray, adult pull ups, trash bags, beach towels, two sunny days, windows that open, laughter, lotion, candles, GRACE Oh precious GRACE
and last but not least all of my
sisters in Christ who were persistently sending me texts of prayer and encouragement.

I never before knew the wealth of gratitude ushered by grief. It sounds incongruent until it is your reality. I am very thankful for the beauty born for brokenness. I am very thankful for the surprising mercies of God’s grace. Thank you, Lord for allowing me to find the splendor wrapped in the struggle of the last six days.