A Goodly Measure of Grace

Our four-year-old grandson spent last night with us, the sleepover his reward for making it through his Friday night t-ball game without the usual late inning meltdown. He came close to losing it when the final out was made before his time to bat again, but pulled it back together enough to slouch back to centerfield, sniffling and insolent, but there. As the game was pronounced over by the umpire, life was good again, the future bright, and the sleepover at Papa and Jo Jo's back on.  To the casual observer, Joshua Dane is a bundle of energy, emotion, intelligence, charm, temper, and humor.  To me, he is all of those elements and more -- he is a goodly measure of God's grace. Josh is named after me, proudly wears a shirt proclaiming 'I Love Papa' (I'm Papa), loves to ride with me in my Jeep Rubicon that he affectionately calls "Ruby," but Josh is technically not my grandson.  He is my step-grandson. We do not share DNA; we share Jo Jo, the mother of Joshua's mother. Apart from divine orchestration, this little boy would be named after someone else, call some other man Papa, and I would be the lesser for it. Like his grandmother (Jo Jo), Josh is a constant reminder that I am the recipient of grace beyond comprehension, mercy exceedingly great. I am the least deserving of any child's affection, but Josh doles it out in large measure and I greedily accept it, and am different because of it. That's the way of grace-- grace changes everything and never allows us to remain the same.