I just wanted to get the yard work done. The lawn needed mowing and leaves were in the way. So I handed our sons rakes. It didn’t take long for the boys to make a big pile in the grass. Satisfied, I brought them a wheelbarrow and told them what to do, then went back to my chores in the house.

It was the shouts of joy that gave them away. I knew the leaves hadn’t made it to the burn pile. I finished folding the clothes in the dryer and walked to the kitchen window. Sure enough, leaves flew in all directions as the boys dive-bombed their pile. The wheelbarrow was right where I left it.

Dishes filled the kitchen sink. How was this possible? I just washed a sink full of dishes an hour ago. Gritting my teeth, I began to wash again, watching four little boys rolling through the leaves, destroying the pile they’d made.

I really wanted to get after the boys for having so much fun when I had so much work to do. For laughing when I felt like weeping. And the main reason I felt like weeping was I wanted their joy.

A child’s joy.

To run out there and jump right in the middle of that leaf pile. Throw leaves all over the place without a care in the world. Throw leaves all over knowing when I was done a big person would clean it up.

When I was little my grandma used to rake leaves, and then for about an hour, she’d let me bounce around in the piles until I’d had my fill of bouncing. She’d go feed the chickens, the rabbits, trim the hedges, whatever, then come back and rake up the leaves again after I’d scattered them.

What a grandma.

So I kept doing the dishes, praying for grace like Grandma’s. To let the boys jump because Grandma let me jump. Perhaps Grandma’s mom let her jump, I don’t know, but I know Grandma was raised without a grandma because her grandparents remained in Germany when her parents immigrated to America by ship before she was born.

Every year, Grandma raked the leaves from her yard come November. Just watching this faithful gray-haired woman gather leaves made everything right in my world. After leaf gathering the Thanksgiving holiday was just around the corner. Grandma would cook a turkey with all the fixings. Then Christmas would come, and Grandma’s beautifully-wrapped presents would be tucked under the tree for us, and she’d put another perfect turkey dinner on the table.

Tucking these memories of my grandma into my heart has helped me be a better mom. Especially on days when the work seems endless and I grow weary. I remember Grandma and I focus on prayer and grace and pretty soon the chores are finished for at least five minutes and I’m at peace as I walk out the door to gather scattered leaves.

Because I’m really gathering scattered grace.

And as I walk over to the leaves, my husband walks over too, and picks up a rake. “I’ll do it,” he says, smiling, and I feel like crying this time because of grace. Because a big person is here to rake up the leaves. The boys are now off on the trampoline. My husband waves them over to help him and I go mow the lawn on my little John Deere, something I enjoy doing, driving my tiny tractor.

The next morning, a sleepy Cruz points out the window. “The trees are falling,” he says in his three-year-old way and we realize he’s talking about the leaves.

“The leaves are falling,” I correct him with a hug.

A brand new blanket of leaves covers our yard. And I am reminded it’s a brand new day to give and accept God’s unending grace.