The anxiety begins.

I don’t like this weekend – it happens to me every year.

Part of it is a sadness, a remembrance of the Dad gift of an orchid corsage in a little clear plastic container that greeted anyone who opened my mom’s fridge on an early Sunday morning every Mother’s Day, or the choosing of the biggest, gaudiest Mother’s Day card so she would know I remembered and loved her so so so so much…

Part of it is the deep, deep, self-centered hurt that comes with rejection and mostly silence and indifference after being a mom for 25+ years but no longer really acknowledged. I do not write about this particular pain – it is best buried. But every year, it bubbles to the surface on this weekend.

*****

Last weekend, my brother came to visit. He is a master tiler. I mean MASTER. His perfectionism shines with this skill. So, when he tackled our list that included correcting some bad grout work in two of our bathrooms, I knew we had the right man for the job. If anyone could fix it, Dwight could.

The only problem? We have different tile in each bathroom, along with different tile in the kitchen and laundry room, and tile in this rental and that rental and a former home – and that means, we have open bags of grout collected from the many different tile jobs that should have been done by Dwight but were done by others. And if you know ANYTHING about Sam, you know he’s happiest with multiple projects, and his challenge is finishing them.

Did we keep a notebook of details, a vision board of reference?

We all know that answer. Shoulda coulda woulda didn’ta.

So, Dwight had to correct our bad grout work with guess work. Grout dries a different color than when applied, so it took a few hours before he was absolutely certain that the work he had just completed did not match up with the original. And it wasn’t just one bathroom – both bathrooms ended up with the wrong color grout.

I stare at our bathroom floor. Where there once was air pocket cavities, there is now a smooth correctly-grouted bead, albeit alabaster white rather than pearl gray as it should be. Our original mistakes are covered up, but we will forever have evidence that if we had just done things the right way to begin with, there would have been no need for correction.

*****

My devotion this morning was taken from Matthew 6. “When our spirit is consumed with grudge holding, toxic emotions cripple us. Indignant judgment, poisonous anger, frustration, and bitterness aim to take up permanent residence within.” Yup. Been there, done that. “We descend into a tailspin of negative thoughts and emotions.”

In my life, God’s grace covers a multitude of sin and builds a continual bridge of correction, a reconciled bridge under construction between mother and daughter, just like that grout covered a multitude of mistakes and now is a bridge of new white grout mixed with old gray grout. The evidence of the past is still there, just like the hurt I feel, and undoubtedly my girls feel, still ever present.

“In prayer there is a connection between what God does and what you do. You can’t get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others. If you refuse to do your part, you cut yourself off from God’s part.” – Matthew 6:14-15 The Message

Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins. – 1 Peter 4:8 New Living Translation

Hatred stirs up quarrels, but love makes up for all offenses. – Proverbs 10:12 New Living Translation

*****

I am sometimes quick to point out to our guests some of our “oopsy-daisies” with our renovations in this old home, just SURE they see the imperfections. I fail to remind myself though, that they most likely don’t notice. It takes a magnifying glass and a lot of staring to see what is glaring at me.

I suppose it is the same in my life. God covered my multitude long, long ago, fixed the cavity of grout and chipped tiles I inherited and created, and I keep staring at it all, descending into a tailspin of negative thought and a hurt heart.

Even though there are a few who use that magnifying glass and still see the multitude, unable to get past it, there are so many more who see a much bigger picture of grace and a “home” now built on solid ground, filled with beauty, peace, and love.

*****

This weekend, God has provided a Mother’s Day diversion for my sensitive heart. My niece and nephew are graduating from college and graduate school, and I am privileged to go. It will be many hours of solitary driving, hours to focus on those in my life who bring me great joy.

I am grateful for diversion.

I am grateful to be included in their celebration.

I am grateful for the opportunity to be independent and travel alone, although not alone at all.

And I am grateful for lessons from mismatched grout.