My mom left on Sunday, the baby got sick on Monday, and on Tuesday I began my stint as a stay at home lady.  That's right, I just got slapped by the week, slapped and sucker punched and kicked in the shins.    Did I mention we started a huge remodel project yesterday?  I've had to apologize twice in the last twelve hours to that out-loud-processor, project manager, spreadsheet maker, budget enforcer, pattern-hating, fine husband of mine.  I probably owe him three more apologies.  And a kidney to pay for the sink and tile I want.

He is a good man.

Such a good man, that he offered his time and services to our friends who are building a whole house (clearly, God knows I don't have the character for that yet.  We'll stick with bathrooms for now).  Of course, my first reaction to his absence on a Saturday morning was to list all of the reasons (in my head because I don't process out loud) why I deserve a coffee in bed kind of morning.  I pouted and sulked and whimpered on the couch while he rushed out the door.   Hence, the second apology.

Cue the Holy Spirit.  That swift, piercing, convicting Being who constantly knocks against the ugly, fleshy areas of my heart.  There was only one thing to do with the morning.  One thing after a bunch of small things: peanut butter toast for the baby and story time and blocks and then nap! shower! microwaved coffee round three! All for an out loud reading of Galatians.

Because if I don't get my head on straight and my heart in order, I don't do anything well.  And when I say "I," I really mean to say that all of the straightening and order comes from the prompting of The Spirt, the grace of The Father, the saving of The Son.

Because you are children, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, "Abba, Father."  So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir.