Tuesday's Child

I was born on a Tuesday, which apparently means I'm full of grace. Ironic. There are days, even weeks and months, when I do not feel so full of grace. There are periods in my life that I look back on and cringe. I don't mean the kind of cringe you do when you look back on the time in junior high you unfurled your towel at a pool party to only then remember you had carefully rolled up your bra and panties in your towel to prevent anyone from seeing them. No. I mean the kind of cringe where you wish you hadn't been that person or done those things. How you can't believe there are people who know these things about you and still love you; much less God. I totally get Adam and Eve. I've committed the sin knowingly and then tried to hide. How could he possibly still love me. After all, I knew better. But he does. He has filled me with his grace, forgiven me and still loves me. I know this is the tired, beat-into-the-ground standard Sunday school story. This post is probably boring and trite to a lot of you; but this is a revelation that I've made several times in my life and will probably make several more. And every time I'm floored by the mystery of God's grace. Of which, I am very full.