I'm just like Joy

YES, we're still alive and I am about to be back in the business of recording our family life right here. Just to be clear, it's been three months since I've blogged, and I was a month or two behind when I stopped, so we've got a lot of work to do to catch up. But it's going to happen because we've had a lot of great life happen! Get excited.

But for today, we're going to chat a little about my precious Joy. Joy is hands-down the most passionate person I know. What you might not see on Instagram is that- as hard as it is to believe- Joy's passion is not always expressed in a healthy fashion. Can you make out the scratch on my left cheek? That is from a knock-down, drag-out tantrum Joy had on Friday afternoon at the home of a new friend in front of a cul de sac of my new friend's lovely neighbors I had met 90 seconds before. As you can tell, Miss Joy was putting all her amazing athleticism to use in physically communicating to me that she was not pleased with a decision I had made, and she would really prefer to have her way. I would rate this in the top three of other similar scenarios I have experienced with Joy, although the very public setting of this particular one does push it perhaps into first place.

Side note: My new friend is also a pediatric occupational therapist whose role was key in ending Joy's assault on me mode of communication. One more reason I sure am glad God brought this fabulous lady into my life!

So on Saturday morning, my beloved little Joy sees the fresh scratch on my cheek and said, "What happened to your cheek, Mama?" I gently reminded her that she had indeed been the one who inflicted the injury, and a very subdued, suddenly saddened little girl said, "Oh." Off and on yesterday and today, she's pointed out the scratch and sadly explained how I got it. Her heart seems very repentant.

Off and on yesterday and today, whenever I have caught sight of the scratch or felt it sting a bit, I think about Jesus.

The scratch on my cheek is tiny and will not leave a scar. But I have a Heavenly Father with scars on His hands, not from a tiny scratch, but rather from the nails they used to hang Him on the cross. And He, in utter sacrificial love, allowed them do that because He was taking the consequences of all my wrong-doings.

I see my scratch and I am not at all angry with my precious Joy. I am overcome with compassion and grace on my little girl who makes mistakes that I forgive her for. I love her more than I can possibly express, faults and all.

Jesus sees the scars on His hands and loves us more than we could possibly imagine, faults and all. He is the definition of compassion and grace.

I'm glad I won't have a scar from this scratch. But if I did, I would probably think more about Jesus and what sacrificial love truly is. My daughter would have a reminder of the consequences of her actions.

My new friend commented that Joy is going to change with world. I honestly agree- all that passion funneled the right direction will be a force to reckon with. It's an honor and privilege to be her mama, battle wounds and all. And how precious that God proudly claims us as His, no matter how we've kicked, scratched, or pummeled Him as He shapes and directs us. He loves us, forgives us and wants to be with us because we are His beloved children. So precious!

It's pretty easy to have grace on three-year-olds when you realize we are not very different from them at all.