Grace and Mercy, and Childbirth.

 I used to blog frequently. Used to being = prior to marriage and childbirth (which isn’t a bad thing, just a fact). #Paul

Today and yesterday have been a vurrrrrrry different experience, as compared to my last 5 years. My mother-in-love, as I consider her, called and asked for my 2 and 4 year old kiddos for the weekend.

NOW: to most *normal* parents, the ask of one’s grandchildren should be readily received with a "YES"! Right?

Goodness gracious, golly jeepers. For reasons I cannot begin to explain on this page, it’s taken us three kids and five years to finally relinquish our children to anyone other than ourselves. I make no excuses, other than just being superior parents. (that’s a joke).

Either way, to the *many* answered prayers of my precious MIL and her friends, she’s had 66.7% of my offspring for two days.

HURRAY!

On our end: we’ve had a 9 month old and ourselves and cannot believe the difference in our lives with only one child to attend to.

We both still woke up to a baby at 7am sharp, BUT! On a Sundee (Sunday), I ran 5 miles on the treadmill before church and didn’t have the responsibility of getting myself and two other kiddos in order for church! Whew!

Despite the respite ™, I miss my babies and the chaos that ensues. <3

But in my time to reflect, I had some good, gospel reflections:

 

I've long been educated in the correct definition of Grace and Mercy, specifically as it applies to theology/religion. 

Grace: getting what I do not deserve.

Mercy: not getting what I do deserve. 

I've recently had an epiphany!

In labor, and I’ve gone through three births, the one cry I’ve moaned during the pain and contractions is: Mercy!

Jesus! Son of David! Have Mercy on me! 

Mercy.

But, why mercy? And not grace? Why was it my intrinsic cry to God to have MERCY.

Because from the garden, my curse has been pain in childbirth. I asked God to not give me what I do deserve: pain.

The curse.

If you’ve felt the curse, the pain of childbirth, you know. To feel the weight of that pain, even in the brevity of childbirth, is to acknowledge the depravity of this flesh. To acknowledge the weight and power of sin in the pain of labor and delivery is to faintly glimpse Christ on the cross. To cry out to a holy God, in the depths of pain, asking, begging, pleading Him to grant relief of a pain you’ve never felt so deeply, is to see HIM.

The One who is Precious. 

I pay no difference in the mode of a child’s arrival, as it all comes with a cost to the mother, and all reliance on God. Because, as we experience the miracle of childbirth, we join in one united cry to the Creator: Mercy! And in the depths of that cry, He hears us. And in the depths of our faith in HIM, we know, no matter His sovereign outcome, HE is the one who holds us, hides us, under the shadow of His wings.

Have Mercy, Oh Most High! Mercy!

And, graciously, He does:

In Christ.