Mismatched Grace

This is one of those posts where I wish I had taken a picture.  A picture of my 2 year-old daughter dressed in pink Mary Jane shoes, lime green polka-dot socks, a purple floral skirt with a yellow cloth diaper underneath, and a hot pink shirt adorned with a gray bunny. Next came her army green coat, her brother’s too big blue mittens and her too small purple fleece hat. All dressed and ready to go to a family dinner.

For those of you who are “Js” on the Myers-Briggs, you might be able to sympathize. I love things that match. My idea of heaven is a gift card designated for all the overpriced organizers donning the shelves at Target (I confess: I did give in on a basket on clearance just last week). So match this love of matching with my daughter’s new fashion sense and stubborn streak and you have quite a challenge.

I know… I can hear the parents of teenagers saying it now… just you wait. Ok.  But still, when your happy-go-lucky toddler makes the switch in a matter of days to throwing food (and telling me she needs a time out) and refusing to get dressed, it’s quite a ride.

I’m writing all this, however, not for the drama of the day but for how it turns out. It had been a long day, time in the car, eating out, playing with family, all after refusing her nap. But at 10 pm when the purple jammies finally got zipped up, I laid her down in her crib. She chose the purple blanket, too, and the baby dolls. Then, all snuggled with a doll under each arm, she said something that sounded like “pipe the drum.” What?  I looked at her, quizzically. She said it again. And then the light bulb went off in my head.

“Child of God in your baptism.” Drum= the end of bap-TISM.”  These are the words what I say every night to my children while making the sign of the cross on their foreheads. But it was later than usual; I was tired and we had groceries to put a way.

Miriam didn’t let me forget. This was a child speaking words of grace to me. Yes, she may have pulled every string, the rope fraying on both ends, but at the end of the day, she is a child of God in her baptism, loved beyond the love even a mother can give. And matched or not, God holds us in mercy. Thanks to my youngest for being that “still small voice” of the Spirit this evening.