My Legacy

Back when I was working from home, I had one of those days at work. When 6:30 came around, I was beyond done. When I finally had a chance to leave my desk I was greeted by a sink full of dirty dishes and dishwasher full of clean dishes. The dynamic duo. You guessed it, that was the proverbial straw. I could hear my back cracking from the weight of it. I called two of my kids into the kitchen and started in on a rant filled with rhetorical questions such as, "Can you guys see these dishes in the sink?" and "Do you think it's fair that I should have to unload the dishwasher, wash the dishes, load the dishes, and cook dinner?" Thank goodness they knew that one was rhetorical because there's only one right answer to that and so help me, if they had gotten it wrong...

I want to pause here to interject that my kids are really wonderful kids. And they're actually very helpful around the house. We can get the house looking pretty good in less than half an hour when it's all hands in. If I really wanted the dishes done, I could have just asked them for their help, and they would have done it without complaining, eye rolling or over-exaggerated exhaling noises (thankfully we are past that stage).

And the longer I went on, I began to say what I was really feeling in that moment. And the barrage of condescending questions turned into something more like this: "I am really frustrated right now, and it's not just because of the dishes but because my stupid computer kept crashing on me and I couldn't get my work done - which has nothing to do with you guys. But walking into this kitchen to make dinner, and first having to do the dishes really set me off. Again, not your fault, but could you just throw me a bone and help me out a little?" And on and on went the soliloquy which ended with "I'm sorry I blew up at you guys. I got this, it's really not that big of a deal and really not what I was frustrated with in the first place."

Every once in a while it happens. I get stressed out, yell at the kids, figure it out somewhere along the way, and then apologize. Sometimes it makes for a good laugh because of my ridiculous over-reaction, sometimes tears and hugs about hurt feelings - but each time it makes for a good dose of grace to be handed out by all parties involved.

When I think about the legacy I leave my kids, I want them to remember that I made mistakes. It's fitting, because I am a self-proclaimed expert mistake-maker... but I am an even better apologizer. It's a skill I've acquired over the years of making some poor choices.

I have spent too many days running from my mistakes. I don't know what scared me more, the outcomes or the shame of my own perceived failures. But you know what? Neither of them were frightening once I learned to normalize making mistakes. Especially because the next part is so good, the part where you apologize and receive grace unending.

And my kids are full of grace. They get that I'm not perfect, but that I am trying my best. I hope they remember all the "I was wrong's" and "I'm sorry's". I hope it gives them permission to make mistakes and experience the love that is found in falling into the open arms of grace.

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Dear Grace

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