Miracle Moments

     It is a miracle when a bad day ends well. 
     Yesterday morning I exchanged my agenda for God's.  I asked Him to help me be intentional with my kids, to help me love them well and pursue their character over completion of school (although the two often go together).  Evidently, this was an invitation to let all sorts of disruptions and craziness into the day.  While there issues all around, Graciela was the biggest source of angst.    The simple goal of helping her use her words and not cry for what she wants, became a herculean task (mind you, she is six!!).  It seemed the more patient I was with her, the more emotionally explosive she became.  Every task was met with resistance and tears.  Even the most innocuous situations, evoked anger and accusation from her -- "everyone is making me cry!"
     The first miracle was that I didn't follow my natural impulse of yelling at her.  Patience is always a miracle for me.  By the end of the day I felt like I'd been home with a crying infant all day -- that kind of exhaustion that leaves you moving like a robot with no energy for emotion.  I was glad, no eager, to leave at 5:30 to take Joshua to basketball practice!  And despite the cumulative fatigue, I pulled on some workout clothes and ran around the track while Josh practice.  I exchanged my emotional fatigue for physical fatigue and somehow I felt better.
     When I came home, the demands ensued.  Graciela didn't want to go to bed.  She wanted to print a picture off of the computer.  No, I couldn't do it for her in the morning.  She didn't like my pictures.  She wanted it now.  Why wouldn't I print the picture?  Could she just color one before bed. . . . ad nauseum.  Every impulse in me just wanted to throw her in bed, turn off the lights, close the door and RUN!!  But, God showed up with another deposit of patience.  Books were read, prayers were said.  And then Graciela pierced my heart. . .
     "Mommy, why did the babies die in your tummy?"  Sometime in recent months, Graciela had learned that I had miscarried three babies at different times.  Gracie is passionate about babies and of course this stirred her tender heart.  But, we had never had this conversation.  "Were they sick?  What were their names?  Do you miss them very much?"  Her sweet face was so earnest and compassionate.  And I was struck by the inexplicable mercy of God.  Graciela was here with us, because Baby Hope had died.  One life exchanged for another.  Death bringing life.  Pain giving way to joy.  A baby living a thousands of miles away, born of another mother, miraculously brought to us. 
     At the end of a bad day, God reminded me.  Pain is always redeemed in the story He is writing.  Good can come of tragedy.  And mercy is always raining down on us, even when we don't see it.  A bad day and a good God who can speak to a tired mom through the words of a six year old.