As a child, I didn’t fully appreciate the little barbecue joint located along the short, daily drive between our house and my grandparents’. We picked up the most amazing sandwiches there: slightly-sweet sauce soaked into smoked, pulled pork with crispy, burnt ends on toasted buns. My grandmother had our turkeys smoked there at Thanksgiving.

As an adult, the pursuit of good barbecue has been a life goal. When we moved to a new part of Atlanta 12 years ago, it took time—years actually—to find a new go-to BBQ restaurant. One day I discovered a promising one on Trip Advisor. Most of the reviews were great, except for one, which was really, really bad.

Ultimately, it was that bad review that convinced us to give them a try.

Not only did the management publicly respond, but they took responsibility for every aspect of the complaint. The manager even reviewed the security tape footage, located the transaction in question, and admitted, “We failed you.”

He didn’t deny or attempt to explain away their mistakes. He owned them. Completely.

Come visit me today at (in)courage to see how a lesson learned over good barbecue translates into a life lesson for us in our most precious relationships!

{I will update you soon on the birth of our first granddaughter, but today’s Sunday Scripture post at (in)courage was written last week, before she was born!}

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,
but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned,
but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed
in the name of God’s one and only Son.
John 3:16-18 NIV

FOR GOD SO LOVED . . .

Because our eight children are separated by 19 years from top to bottom, my husband and I straddle two seasons of parenting. We have four school-age children at home, but we also have one grandson, another due in September, and our oldest daughter was due with our first granddaughter two days ago, as I’m writing this post.

I’ve known the depth of mother-love for years, but being a grandparent is heady stuff, too. And as I wait for the call from my daughter–the one announcing labor has begun and we’ll meet our granddaughter soon–I’m torn between feelings of excitement and the dread of seeing my daughter in pain, unable to take it for her.

My mother didn’t stay in the delivery room the entire time with me (she’d just pop in to see how I was doing) until my fourth child’s birth. I wanted her there, but she couldn’t handle it. It was frustrating at the time; now I understand how she felt.

Join me today at (in)courage for the rest of my story and how it ties in to your story too.

Sunday Scripture