Inside Out and Backwards

My youngest son doesn't care how he puts on his clothes. This little guy, who is closing in on seven years old, came up from his room the other night with his PJs on as he had been instructed. Immediately I noticed that his shirt was on backwards. That's pretty much his trademark move; he doesn't even do it on purpose. The icing on this cake, however, was the fact that his pants were also on backwards - AND inside out! I knelt down in front of him, put my hands on his shoulders and announced "You win the award for the most awesome outfit ever! High five!" and then I gave him a huge hug. I wasn't poking fun. I really wasn't. I was so in love with my fun-loving, mommy-and-daddy-hugging, precious-gift-from-God that I had to party a little bit.

For me, this boy is a DAILY reminder of God's mercy (you can read more about that here), and I have a feeling that God views me in much the same way that I see my son. To wit: I'm often ornery and need the board of education applied to my seat of knowledge. I'm sure I'm also quite often adorably silly and don't even realize it (OK, OK, in God's eyes - I don't really think I'm that adorable!). I'm very sure that I'm looked upon as a trophy of grace: one that has been rescued from death and that, by all rights, shouldn't even be here. It's hard - I mean really hard - to imagine that God loves me like I love my little boy, but I think He must.