Because sometimes, we just can't remember…

I had only been gone 5 minutes when it happened. Onions were simmering for soup. Christmas music floating through the house. Dutch intense over Legos. Heidi happily coloring. I ran down to discuss church business, ran back up to stir the onions again. I didn’t see Heidi.

Stirring the onions, I saw her come from around the corner, head down. She wrapped her arms around my leg.

“Hey, babygirl. What’s up?”

Head stayed down.

“Heidi, what’s up Sweetie?”

She finally looked up. Her eyes wide, stricken. I lowered down to look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She turned and pointed, then took my hand and led me into the living room. Around the corner, she pointed.

A long line of pink marker down the wall.

“Oh.” I looked down into her wide eyes, her mouth started to twist, eyes filled, stricken by the pain of guilt. Tears spilled over her eyes. Oh I know that feeling, babygirl. That feeling of Oh, What have I done?

I scooped her up, ignoring the sizzle of onions behind me, and took her, crushed, crying, to her room. We slide down into the rocker. We rock. She grieves. I’ve been there:

Godly sorrow, it’s good–got to let it do its work. 

This girl’s not yet 4 but has a spirit opening, like a flower, and I never want to miss an opportunity, thinking she’s too young.

“Heidi, does your heart feel sad and yucky inside when you do something naughty?”

“Yes,” she sobs.

“Me too. Mommy does naughty things too sometimes, and it makes my heart feel so sad and yucky. It’s a terrible feeling, I know.  You know Mama does naughty things sometimes too, right?”

She nods. (A little too readily, if you ask me.)

“Do you know what those naughty things are called?”

She’s on it: “Sin.” She says it like she knows it, hates, it, hates the feeling of doing it. How early on we are acquainted with it!

“Can I tell you something wonderful?”

She nods.

“Do you remember why Jesus died on the cross?”

She’s recited it a hundred times: “To take away our sins!” but now, in the midst of her own sin, she can’t remember.

That happens to me too.

In the midst of my sin, I forget why Jesus died on the cross. I can’t see it. Don’t know it. Just can’t remember. Can’t think straight because the frustration and darkness of my selfishness eclipses the light of His love.

“Can I tell you again?”

She nods.

“Jesus came as a baby–at Christmas–and died on the cross, because He loves you so much He wanted to take away ALL your sin–even writing on the wall–and forgive you and take away all the sadness and yuckiness from your heart and make you all new and clean on the inside. Do you remember that?”

She nods.

“Mama forgives you, babygirl. I’m proud of you for showing Mommy your sin instead of hiding it. That’s the same as confessing. And now we’re going to pray and then go clean up the wall together.”

Now she’s stricken again. “But Mommy,” she sobs, “I tried to clean it up, I can’t. I tried with my finger and I can’t. See?” She shows me, pink ink smudged on the pad of her pointer finger. She looks down, now hopeless again.

I smile. “But this time, Mommy will help you. Do you believe Mommy can do it?”

A glimmer of hope: she nods.

After praying, we walk together to the living room, hand in hand. She shows me how she tried to get it off. How the pink just smudged and got bigger, worse.

Again, I ask: “Heidi, do you believe Mommy can do it?”

She nods.

I grab the spray cleaner and a little doggy-puppet wash cloth. She’s laughing as puppy makes silly voices and gets soaked with cleaner.

“Now, Heidi watch. Do you know what Jesus does with our sin? Watch carefully.”

Her eyes are wide. I spray the wall, and in one smooth action, wipe with doggy-puppet-washcloth and all trace of pink-pen … is gone.

Her face is light.

And I’m reminded, why Jesus died on the cross.

~

{Bless you, friends, as we begin the Advent season, watching and waiting for Christ. Thanks for reading.}