“Show me.”

It was my earnest, succinct prayer in a quiet moment as I sat outside waiting for the burgers to grill. Frustration with my day and my toddler swirled around my head. I don’t know what I wanted to see, I just wanted God to show up. I closed my eyes and waited.

I heard a cricket chirp. “It’s too early for that…is that it?” I felt the wind on my face. “God, are you trying to show me something?” I stared up at the sky: cloudless and unremarkably blue. Nothing.

The burgers were done and it was time to go back inside. As I stepped onto the porch, I heard my son wailing. Up from his nap already. With a sigh, I opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, Thomas came towards me and wanted to be picked up. He wrapped his arms around me with all of his might and buried his head in my neck. We both sighed.

“Show me.”

I didn’t know what I wanted/needed to see when I breathed my prayer earlier, but I knew God showed up in my son’s embrace. What I saw was real and deep forgiveness. Tom Tom wasn’t thinking about the difficult day we’d had; he simply was happy to see me. It was a fresh start, grace in the flesh.

God answered my prayer.