How I Saw Jesus in a Hairbrush: A Story About Showing Grace to Our Friends

I’m a bad borrower. I mean well, but I keep stuff too long.

Last week, a friend sent me this text:

“If you think of it, can you bring my Redeeming Love book to Bible study tomorrow? Thanks!”

I stared at my cell phone and felt a burning sensation creep into my cheeks. I still have that book?! Didn’t she lend me that, like, two years ago? No way—please tell me I gave it back.

So I tripped downstairs to the bookshelf. Sure enough, there it was, stacked on top of a pile of novels: Redeeming Love. Darn it! Worse yet, I found three other hijacked books whose rightful owners must be cursing my name.

And that’s not all.

My TV cabinet still holds a DVD lent to me in 2009.

My sister’s maternity jacket lives in my closet. I kept it through my last pregnancy—and hers.

Twice a year, our local library pardons overdue fines if we donate nonperishable goods. I mark this event on my calendar and hit the tuna sales at Festival.

Once, somebody lent me a paintbrush and I lost it. My husband found it stashed in an empty suitcase six months later. Don’t ask me how it got there. I’m still stumped.

Ugh! I don’t want to be a thief. I just can’t seem to get it together in this area. I used to berate myself for it, but over the years I’ve accepted this flaw, and now for the sake of all parties involved I’ll politely refuse whenever anyone offers to lend me anything. Really, it’s for the best. You need your can opener more than I do.

Yet understand this. Yes, I am a terrible borrower—but that does not make me a terrible friend.

I might hoard your things. But I won’t neglect your heart. I’ll handle your thoughts, your hopes, and your dreams with care. I’ll share your laughter and your sadness.

Because this little borrowing flaw of mine? It does not own me. None of my flaws can.

Only God gets that job.

“He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life,” (Titus 3:5–7).

Do you have some quirks you can’t shake? Do you beat yourself up over shortcomings or social blunders? Maybe you’re the friend who’s always late. Or you’re notorious for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Maybe you forget birthdays, dinner plans, or names.

So what? Not a single one of us is perfect, and yet God chooses to love us. We can do the same for each other.

My friend did. I met her at the doors to Bible study last week with my eyes to the carpet and her book in my guilty hands. She laughed and pulled a gift from her purse—a fancy hairbrush for my daughters, just like the one belonging to her own daughter, which I’d admired the last time we visited. Of course she didn’t offer to lend me hers, smart woman. This brush was brand spanking new, still in the packaging.

Imagine that. I messed up, and my friend responded by giving me a gift I don’t deserve.

Who does that sound like?

Happy Easter, everyone. May you all know the redeeming love of your Savior, and the kindness of friends who reflect his grace.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like I Love You Lots and Cows, And Then I Ran Into the Babysitter’s Car, and God Doesn’t Ration Candy Bars.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Give Me the Goods Monday, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday, Women Living Well, What He's Done Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

When You Wish They’d Stay Little Forever

I’m slapping a restraining order on the tooth fairy. She’s trying to steal my baby.

When our daughter lost her first tooth last fall, we cheered. That bitty gap in her bottom row was new and endearing. The second tooth we viewed as a celebration of courage. It popped out during Sunday school, without Mom or Dad on hand to soothe the trauma. Our girl earned a five-dollar bill under her pillow that night, for bravery.

But the third tooth. Well, that was different. The third one sank my heart.

Because it was a central incisor—a big top tooth, smack in the front of her face. When it went loose a few weeks ago, I encouraged her not to rush the process. No need to wiggle it out too fast. Let those chompers uproot in their own sweet time. Yes, let’s just be content to deny the inevitable.

But when the darn thing hung by a thread and my beautiful child came running from the bathroom one evening last week clutching her front tooth in a crumpled tissue, grinning so wide and so proud, I took a long look at that gaping hole and knew.

She is changing.

Suddenly, this one missing tooth transformed my delicate ballerina into an Appalachian moonshiner. Her smile is a jigsaw puzzle. Her baby face, forever gone.

And I didn’t get to say goodbye.

Yes, I know. This toothless stage is a necessary part of her childhood. It’s the next step on her journey to maturity, toward the ultimate beauty God intends. And yet I find myself mourning the passing of her earlier years, as though they are who she is, not this hillbilly imposter.

But then I remember. I’m growing up, too. We all are. And awkward stages are part of the deal.

“Then we will no longer be immature like children. We won’t be tossed and blown about by every wind of new teaching. We will not be influenced when people try to trick us with lies so clever they sound like the truth. Instead, we will speak the truth in love, growing in every way more and more like Christ, who is the head of his body, the church,” (Ephesians 4:14–15, NLT).

The purpose of living is to mature. For me, that means discerning more and more what I’ll allow to fill my head and spill out my mouth. Whether it’s learning to speak respectfully to my husband, to trust God with my fears, or to deny my selfish nature again and again and again for the sake of nurturing my children—these are my pulled teeth, yanked one by one until slowly God sprouts stronger, deeper-rooted virtues in their place.

Do you see? Those ugly black gaps aren’t empty space. They’re room to grow. How can I grieve yesterday’s little girl when the one standing before me today is closer to God’s design?

So, on second thought, I’ll let the tooth fairy in. She has my daughter’s best interests at heart. Besides, after that last tooth bit the dust, its neighbor shifted oddly to the center, and now my little moonshine brewer bears a freakish resemblance to Nanny McPhee.

Tooth fairy—help me out, sister. That tusk has got to go.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like Learning Is Messy, Moms Grow Up, Too, When Siblings Become Friends, and Kindergarten Is Not a Big, Green, Ugly Monster.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday, What He's Done Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

Put a Little Love In Your Voice

My mom has a saying—put a little love in your voice. It’s her advice to my sisters and me when she hears us crabbing at our kids.

If only she could be in my house at 7:30 every morning to remind me.

“Are you done with your breakfast? It’s time to brush your teeth! Hurry or we’ll be late for school.”

Imagine those words poured sweet as syrup from a momma’s lips. The inner dialog sings, Sweetie pie, did you get your fill of pancakes? My heart aches to think of you hungry at recess time. Off you go now to brush-a-brush those pearly whites! I want to make sure you have plenty of time to hang your backpack and change out of your snow boots before the bell rings. Love you!

If it were anybody else talking to my child, that’s the tone of voice I’d want to hear.

Why, then, do I often sound like this?

Are you STILL poking at your breakfast? Look at the clock, for crying out loud! Hightail it to the sink and brush your teeth NOW! Don’t make me drive like a wailing fire truck to get your lazy bottom to school on time! Move!

Yikes. Do you see? The trouble isn’t necessarily what we say. It’s how we say it.

“A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger,” (Proverbs 15:1).

Oh, how many emotional disasters could be averted in my home if I’d just put a little love in my voice. Surely I’ve figured out by now that impatience is counterproductive. When I bark at my kids, they tune me out at best. Sometimes they strike back. Worst, on rare but awful occasions, they cry. Then I grovel in the driver’s seat all the way to school, wishing for a do-over.

So I took my mom’s advice. Last week, whenever frustration bubbled within me and threatened to spurt, I blew the air from my lungs and spoke gently instead.

“No, you cannot have a lollipop for breakfast.”
Not: Are you serious? You just woke up two minutes ago and already you’re begging for sugar? What is WRONG with you?
But rather: Oh, you’re so silly! I’ve got something better. Strawberries, yay!

“I told you to put your jacket on.”
Not: For the last time, get your stupid jacket on!
But rather: Um, remember? I mentioned that little jacket thing a minute ago. Let’s try again.

“Buckle your seatbelt!”
Not: Quit squirming in your seat and focus, people! We need to go!
But rather: Alrighty, happy campers, let’s all buckle up for safety!

And guess what—it worked. My girls cooperated more readily, found fewer opportunities to buck me, and everyone hopped into the van, smiling and chatty, three minutes ahead of schedule.

Amazing.

I find it interesting that a few lines down the book of Proverbs, after the verse about gentle answers versus harsh words, shines this little gem:

“The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good,” (Proverbs 15:3).

Do you ever wonder if you’d act different with Jesus in the room? Hey, I’d spiff up my behavior if the mailman stopped by. Imagine how far I’d go to tame my tongue for the Lord of the universe.

And that’s the kicker. He is in the room. His eyes are in my kitchen, when I’m mopping spilled juice. In my hallway, when I’m wrestling octopus arms into jackets. In my minivan, when the kids bicker over what carpool game to play. I Spy? Or rhyming words? I know, girls—let’s ask Jesus!

Thankfully, the Lord is full of grace. He loves me through my harsh words and do-over mornings. But I wonder—if I wouldn’t snap at Jesus to hurry and brush his teeth, why should my kids deserve less?

Put a little love in your voice. It’s Proverbs 15:1, paraphrased mom-style. Tonight, I’m expanding my practice to the bedtime routine. This will change my life, folks. I can hardly wait to get started.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like Sheriff Mom and the No-Nap Kid (Why Love Matters More Than Rules), I Know Why Dinosaurs Are Extinct, and The Foolproof Cure for Hollering.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Women Living Well, Rethinking My Thinking, What He's Done Wednesday, Wedded Wednesday, and Things I Can't Say.

When Your Quiet Time Is Anything But Quiet

Whatever happened to early morning quiet time? Oh, I remember. I had children.

“Momma? Can I get up now?”

I pried open one bloodshot eye and cocked my head toward the clock. 4:39 a.m.

“No, baby girl,” I croaked, “it’s not morning yet.” My toddler stood at my bedside, clutching her pillow and an armful of stuffed animals.

“But Moooooom! I’m all done sleeping. I want to get up!”

“Come snuggle with me. Mommy’s tired.” Desperate, I lifted her warm body onto the mattress and tucked her pillow between her dad’s and mine. She settled under the covers and stared at me nose-to-nose. My eyelids slid shut.

“Mommy!” she hissed.

Sorry, I’m sleeping.

“Moooommyyyy!” She whispered louder. I rolled away and buried my face.

“Mommy!” Her finger jabbed my shoulder. “I want to get up!”

On the other side of the bed, my husband shifted and sighed. I assessed the options. If our human alarm clock stays here, she’ll wake her dad. If I make her go back to her own bed, she’ll wake her sister. Call me a martyr or a pushover—I opted for peace.

“Fine, let’s get up.”

“Oh, thanks, Momma! Will you take my pillow please? And can I have some milk and a muffin, too?” She began rattling requests as we pattered down the hall.

Yep, I’m your mom and I love you. Let the race begin.

Waffles, carpool, phone calls, e-mails, deadlines, library, laundry, potty training, piano, homework, cooking, dishes, tantrums, hugs, bath, bedtime prayers, goodnight kisses, listen. . . for. . . quiet.

What fills your day?

A year or two ago, each night when the kids were finally in bed, I’d wilt into an armchair in the family room. My handsome man would appear through the fog, presumably expecting either sex or popcorn. I’d buy some time and suggest we watch Cupcake Wars. Then it would hit me.

Noooooooooo! I haven’t touched my Bible today! How could I let that slide again?! My exhausted brain wrestled with how to spend those precious 30 minutes of “me” time. Bible, TV. Bible, TV. I’m ashamed to admit it wasn’t an automatic decision.

Has that ever happened to you? We’re all busy. The demands of family and work and life command every minute of the day—and every ounce of energy we can muster. Sadly, it’s easy to crowd God out of the calendar.

As if he’s just another item on the to-do list.

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing,” (John 15:4–8).

Did you catch that? Apart from me you can do nothing. All our housekeeping, child rearing, errands, work—it amounts to zero without Jesus. He’s our sustenance. When we let ourselves slip out of the vine, we become withered branches, useless and barren. No wonder we’re drained.

I know what I’m supposed to do about it. Choose a portion of the day and set it aside for God—the coveted “quiet time,” which for many women is at the crack of dawn because that’s the only peaceful hour in the house. I’ve done that, and it’s an excellent discipline.

But will you think me less spiritual if I dare to voice an ugly fact? During certain seasons of life, a solid block of quiet is crazy impossible to carve. Ask any woman who’s jolted awake three times a night by a hungry baby—5 a.m. isn’t quiet time, it’s the shift change.

Out of necessity, I’ve learned instead to invite God into my not-so-quiet day.

It’s not pretty, but it works. I start each morning acknowledging God, praying while I stretch my aching limbs out of bed. Lord, thank you for another day with my children. Help me to honor you with the way I treat my family today. Then I crack open my Bible while the kids play at my feet. I read it while I sit on my daughter’s bed as she drifts off to nap. I sneak a few verses from Proverbs while the family watches Tangled on TV. I tell Bible stories to my kids at bedtime. I talk to and about Jesus in daily conversation, keeping him close to my heart as I go about the responsibilities he gave me.

Maybe it’s not ideal, the constant activity, the noise. It’s like inviting God for coffee at McDonald’s Playland. But it’s time with God nonetheless.

Besides, imagine if we moms reserved all our time with God for the moments when our kids are sleeping or absent. They’d never get to see our faith relationship in action. When I read my Bible in front of my children, when I pray with them, when I point to God in ordinary scenery, I’m remaining in the vine—and I’m teaching my kids that God is top priority.

Last night, after the girls were in bed, I sank into my trusty family room chair. Moments later a button nose poked around the sofa.

“Hi, Momma. Will you rub my back a little bit?” Apparently, the bedtime ritual wasn’t quite over yet. I wiggled eyebrows at my husband.

Good thing we didn’t pop that popcorn, eh, babe?

I lifted my daughter onto my lap for a hug, then laced her fingers in mine and led her back to her room. Mom duty is never really on a break. But I can keep going strong—with God, my vine.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like How a Wiggles Movie Changed My Life, I Should (Not) Do That, and When You Wake Up With a Foot in Your Face.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Women Living Well, Rethinking My Thinking, What He's Done Wednesday, Wedded Wednesday, and Things I Can't Say.