sing thy grace

It's been one of those weeks, rife with hand-wringing, tears, and What the hell am I doing?

"Gentle discipline" feels like neither, and I'm the one punished.

My love isn't strong; my patience spills like cereal and I'm poured out.

But valleys fill first.  There is grace in hard things and sweetness in a boy who is not out to get me.  He is learning and growing and finding his way.

And I'm finding His.

{video: Although speaking in sentences is new, James learned all three verses months ago. 
We sing it, per his request, every night before bed.}

Come, thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above. Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it, mount of thy redeeming love.

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