One of the great perks of my husband's job is that I get to eat there for free on certain occasions. So when there is a weekday brunch, it's a great opportunity for our daughter to have an outing, see her dad and of course, eat a great meal.
So, we headed out today only to find construction right at the turn we would make to get there. A nice man in a bright yellow vest asked me which way I was going and with a smile, I quickly volunteered to take the long way. I was sort of pleased with myself in that moment, because I actually knew the long way, which I wouldn't have when I first moved here. I gladly proclaimed, "I'm a stay-at-home mom--I'm flexible!" "Good for you!" was the pleasant reply, and I was off.
Once I was there, I had two desserts. TWO DESSERTS. And the sugar-coma that followed was wicked. And not the good-Boston-kind-of-wicked. It was the kind of sugar coma that makes you want to nap for the next two days. And then guilt over both sugar and sloth. Oh, the guilt. So in the middle of a really good round of self-bashing, I headed back home.
On the way back, I encountered the same nice construction guy in the same bright yellow jacket. I stopped and greeted him (a little more sleepily this time). It took him a moment, but out of nowhere he said "oh, I remember you! You're a stay-at-home mom."
"Yes," was the reply.
"I think that's great," he continued. "My wife did that when our kids were little and she never regretted it. I think there aren't enough of you anymore."
"I agree," I said, biting my tongue to stick up for my friends who must work in order to pay the bills, but enjoying the compliment at the same time.
"Really. I think it's really important that you do that."
And then the line that changed my day.
"I'm proud of you."
It was time for me to move along, so I thanked him with a smile and drove along, but as I pulled into my driveway, I fought back tears. It's a weird sentence to hear from a stranger. I've heard it from my parents on lots of occasions, from my sisters, from people who love me. And mostly on days of great import, like my graduation from college or something else big. But I got an "I'm proud of you" for staying home and changing my daughter's diapers. For dealing with her grouchiness when she is tired. For letting her double the time it would take me to load the dishwasher so she can explore its fascinating contents. On a day when I overate and had nothing good to say to myself, I got an "I'm proud of you" from someone that I'd never met before.
And somehow that gave me energy for my day. I felt a little spirit of "yes I can" when my daughter laid down for her nap and I got a few things done.
I'm not going to lie--there was something truly holy about yellow-vest-construction-guy. When I saw construction trucks, I certainly never expected someone to give me words to change my day...maybe more. But I wonder if what we forget about God's love is that God is proud of us. Not just tolerating, not just forgiving for bad stuff...but proud of our efforts, even on the days when we screw up.
"I'm proud of you." Magic. On a two-dessert-guilt-day. Grace, indeed.
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