I See Jesus in My Son’s Dirty Hands

I never anticipated how much dirt and sweat and tears and stink would come with being a mom—and a boy mom, nonetheless.

Every day, I fight the urge to tell him no as he digs his tiny hands into the dirt and smooshes bugs. I have to stop myself from stealing his joy. I resist every urge to keep him from learning the hard way that life isn’t fair and that sometimes, you do all the right things and still get hurt.

RELATED: Fall into the Arms of Jesus, Little One

Some people see Jesus in the mountains or at the beach. I see Him there too. But you want to know where I really see Him?

I see Him on a warm, sunny day when I’ve slowed down enough to sit outside and be with my boy while his daddy grills burgers.

I see Him in the towheaded toddler who runs into his mama’s arms, dirty hands and all.

I see Him in the butterfly that passes by as we sit and talk about dump trucks and excavators and front loaders. Everything and nothing—all at the same time.

RELATED: God Meets Me in the Laundry Room

I’m absolutely convinced that Jesus created parenthood to give us a glimpse of His love for us and the relationship He created us to have with Him. With dirty hands and sometimes tear-stained faces, we run into His open arms. He listens as we talk about everything and nothing—all at the same time.

When the day is done and the sun is setting, I call my boy home. He is messy and stinky but so fiercely loved. And in that moment, I hear Him call me, too. Messy. Stinky. Imperfect and dirty. But fiercely loved and drenched in grace.

Oh, what a Savior.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page