Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
Family starts arriving later tonight, and the gorge-fest will be fabulous and totally worth every gluten-laden calorie.
I’m thankful for a lot of things, but it’s grace that humbles me beyond words.
First, the grace of God. I can barely make it to 9 am without blowing something major that should cast me into the drudges of evil, but His mercy keeps me around to screw up yet another day.
I’m blessed to have the gifts of the people in my life. I’m a royal pain to live with, but I’m blessed with a husband whose grace knows no bounds. He forgives my selfishness, my forgetfulness, my disrespect.
My parents “taught me better than that” yet every time I deviated, they embraced my choices with wholehearted support. Even now.
My children are grace embodied. I scold them for being emotional 30 seconds after I’ve blown my top, making messes after I’ve stepped over something laying on the floor, on and on. I don’t model what I preach, yet they love me anyway.
My friends, my family, my co-workers . . . they all extend me grace I don’t deserve.
And I love them unconditionally because of it.