Recently, my daughter got herself into our downstairs bathroom cabinet that stores all of our candles. She has been known to “explore” this cabinet with me before, and has always been gentle with the items in it.
She was having a “day”… Molars were breaking through her sweet little sore gums and she was a little one on a mission to destroy all things in her way.
I could tell that she needed extra attention, but in the midst of trying to clean up breakfast dishes, piles of laundry, and the scattered toys everywhere, she found herself standing in that room alone.
I had my eyes on her; I could see her ten feet away from me. She was “in my sight” but far enough away from me to be independent.
Within a matter of mere seconds, she grabbed a candle incased in glass and threw it on the ground. I ran as fast as I could to catch her, and my breath was stuck in my throat as I saw her little foot about to step on shattered glass.
With the grace of God, I got there quick enough to grab her.
I didn’t have time for graceful movements and soft tender touches. Trying to do anything to prevent her foot from landing in any of the glass, I grabbed her with a fierceness I didn’t know I had. With one hand, I grabbed her little arm and lifted her up out of the brokenness she had found herself surrounded in.
My grip was so strong that her tiny head smacked into the doorframe. With tears coming down her face, I saw nothing but fear in her eyes. It was a mixture of so many emotions, muddled with the energy of the situation and firm voice I was using, and of course the literal impact of physical pain.
I could see that she was hurt, scared, and uncertain.
I was hell bent on making sure she was safe.
Away from the mess. Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger. Clear of all the brokenness.
I quickly examined her little body, head to toe.
Heart to belly button.
She of course wasn’t wearing a shirt and was without socks on her precious feet.
I expected the worse.
All clear except a minor scrape on her thumb.
How did I let this happen I kept thinking to myself?
I rushed to the sink in the kitchen to wash her finger.
As the water rushed over the blood pouring from her finger, tears streamed down my face.
She quickly calmed down and started playing in the sink.
Her immediate calm soothed my heart.
It could have been so much worse.
Muttered words of thankfulness began flowing from my mouth, tender words of absolute gratefulness to my Father who protected my daughter.
His Grace for me, like a special gift that morning.
Undeserved favor- completely unmerited and yet so overwhelmingly appreciated.
How many times has He done that for me?
Grabbed me by my arm, out of the messy situation that I find myself in, with a fierceness that only a parent has for their child.
More times than I can count.
With tender touches He takes care of my bumps and bruises, comforts me, and provides healing for my broken heart.
He takes my brokenness and puts me together again.
He gently reminds me that bottom dwelling, and sitting in the midst of shattered glass is not what I have been called to.
He puts me together again, and then provides peace that makes me whole.
He took my sins upon Himself. He, who didn’t deserve to bow down and get his hands dirty in my broken glass, did, for me.
He took my brokenness, and His wounds now heal me.
He always desires for me to be away from the mess.
Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger.
Clear of all the brokenness.
And one by one, piece-by-piece, He is always faithful to put me together again.
“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”
– Isaiah 53:5 –
Written By Haley Goodman OCGoodmama