He and I had had a particularly rough day. He hadn't appreciated that he still had to obey his mother, I hadn't appreciated the amount of times I had had to remind him that he still had to obey his mother. I saw ugliness, selfishness, rebellion, plain ole sinfulness ... in both of us.
I went to bed heavyhearted. Sad. Even feeling a little hopeless. I prayed- for I don't know how long. For him. For our relationship with each other. For a miracle.
As is always the case, he was the first child awake this morning. He came and gave me the same hug and kiss that he always does, he is a super cuddler when he first wakes up. Then, as the first child awake he knew he was supposed to unload the dishwasher, which he did.
It wasn't those things that gave me hope. Those things always happen before our day begins to deteriorate. It was what he decided to do while he was unloading the dishwasher that gave me hope.
When I walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee my favorite cup wasn't in the cabinet. It wasn't hanging from the mug hooks. I finally found it. When he unloaded the dishwasher, he placed it on the Keurig so that it was waiting for me.
It might not seem like much, but it filled my heart with joy and gave me a little bit of the hope that I had prayed for the night before.