Shattered

A couple of day ago, I went shopping with the kids. As we strolled up and down the aisles, Josh reached for something off the shelf and accidentally knocked a piggy bank down, and broke it. He was immediately repentant, and really felt so badly about breaking it. He felt even worse when I told him to pick up the pieces and that we would have to pay for it. I could tell he was sorry and embarrassed, along with a whole flurry of other emotions that my sweet first born usually feels. As we approached the cashier, I could tell Josh was growing more uneasy, and he repeatedly apologized and told me how bad he felt that he did it. I reassured him that I understood that it was an accident and reminded him that he needed to be more careful in the stores. It came time for us to check out, and I placed the dismembered piggy in the cashier's hand, explained that we broke it, and prepared to pay for it. She turned to her manager standing behind her, who overheard the whole conversation. With a simple shake of the head, and a smile, the manager graciously decided to not make us pay for the bank. He thanked us for our honesty, took the pig and placed it under the counter. 

Mercy. A concept that is so difficult to teach with words, and even harder to practice when we are wronged. In a matter of minutes, my children learned what mercy was in a way they will never forget. What a great teaching moment for all of us. As we sat in the car on the way home, we talked about what had just happened. I talked with the boys about how we need to be just as quick to extend mercy to each other as that manager was to us.  What a great lesson learned, I thought to myself as I drove home.

It's funny how often times when we are involved in teaching our children a lesson, shortly thereafter, we are given the amazing opportunity to walk through that lesson ourselves. Enter, my beloved Honda Pilot.

It was a gloomy, overcast day, and the rain had been off and on all morning. Josh and Jonathan were outside with a neighbor girl, playing catch with a small plastic ball, which landed on the top of my car. Josh, forgetting our rule about climbing on the cars, pulled himself up from the hood to the top, lost his balance and came down with all his weight with his elbow on my windshield.  The neighbor came rushing to the door, and told me that Josh cracked the glass on my car. I walked out, already livid with the thought of having to pay for the repair. Here's what I saw:

 I am sure my face turned a lovely shade of magenta, and I immediately sent the neighbor home. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember it was loud. I lost it, right there in my driveway. I am not sure if I was more angry that Josh disobeyed or that the damage was so vast. I didn't even ask Josh if he was hurt. I sent everyone in the house, and called the insurance company. Knowing we had a $500 deductible, I held my breath while the agent looked up the details on our policy. As he told me we had 100% glass coverage and no deductible, I let out a sigh of relief. I contacted a glass place, set up an appointment, and got everything squared away with surprising ease. After all was said and done, I hung up the phone and just sat at the table, and I heard a Voice that said, "Remind Joshua that you love him." I have grown to love that Voice, and I have learned, over time, to quickly obey it as well. Josh was in the living room on the couch, and I called to him. He turned to look at me, and I said, "Bud, even though I got really mad at you for disobeying the rule, and for what you did to the car, I still love you." He started to cry, telling me that because I was so angry he thought I didn't love him. I got the chance to remind him that no matter what he does, no matter how angry I might get, my love for him would never change. I remembered the piggy bank incident from the day before, and the mercy that was extended to us. Then I realized how I blew it when it came time for me to extend mercy to my own son, whom I love so dearly. Thankfully, it is never too late to make things right, and I was given the opportunity to fix it.

Mercy is a mysterious thing, that leads you through a gambit of emotions. This whole ordeal reminded me of how Jesus had the greatest mercy of all on each one of us. Instead of making us pay for our sins, as He had every right to do, He paid for them all, once and for all, and cancelled our enormous debt that we could never have sufficiently paid. We have all learned a valuable lesson over that last few days, and I'm sure that there will be other lessons over this long vacation for us to tackle. I am so thankful that the Lord's mercies are new every morning, and His faithfulness is great, even when ours is not.