coffee spilled

I spilled my coffee.

Really good, really hot Tim Horton’s coffee.

On our new area rug. On my only pair of jeans that were fitting comfortably that day.

I just completely missed the coffee table, staring at my cute toddler as I tried to set my cup down.

I spilled it and I cried. Sobbed.

And my husband. He ran out of the bedroom to find out what was wrong and I felt silly and stupid and ridiculous and hormonal and I kept apologizing and shaming myself and he said…

He said “I’ll buy you more.”

And I refused, ashamed of my spilled coffee and my tears.

But we get in the car to go to his parents and, with me protesting, he pulled through Tim Horton’s drive through.

And I cried a little more but deep down… deep down I felt loved and beautiful.

And just a few miles later I turn to help a boy in the backseat and next thing I know my cup is no longer in my hand and coffee is on the other leg of my jeans (that I did not change earlier) and on my seat and all over, and the coffee cup is currently emptying itself on my husband’s new Window’s phone, which he just picks up calmly, and he even smiles at me when apologies come tumbling out of my mouth again.

I’m sobbing again.

And he says… “I’ll buy you more.”

That is just a small way that I’ve been shown grace lately. The thought that when I do something wrong, even a mistake, all I have to do is apologize {and even ask God “can You fix it?”… and let Him} and not have to dwell on it or make sure I feel bad enough for what I did is so foreign to me…

Chris made our small group listen to this song last night… so glad that even though my sign would say “ashamed” that both my husband and God see “beloved”

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