love, not lectures
“Mom, Mom, I’m bleeding!”
We’d been home from school for about ten minutes when she ran into the kitchen, hands cupping her chin, fear coloring her eyes. She dropped her hands, both painted red, and I knew instantly what had happened.
Moments earlier, I’d heard a cry come from her room. Here’s the thing about motherhood, over time you learn the types of cries, the responses they warrant, and most often what caused them. We’re at the stage where if most cries are not quickly cured, they’re brought to me within seconds.
Like this one.
She tilted her head back, and I knew stitches were in the near future. Not because I’m a medical professional but because her little sister had a similar chin injury a few months before and the gaping flesh looked identical.
I ran a paper towel under water, folded it, and instructed her to keep it pressed against the wound. We loaded in the car, and tears raced down her face as she confessed all her feelings on the drive to the hospital.
“I’m scared, Mom. And it hurts and I’m so mad at myself, too.”
Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled with the situation, either. Her sister’s injury garnered much more sympathy as it occurred accidentally. But this one wasn’t the case.
“How many times have I asked you not to jump on the furniture? To not use your bed as a trampoline or balance beam? A hundred, a thousand, a million times?” I wanted to ask those questions. Relive her mistake. Give the lecture. Remind her that, once again, she should listen to me.
Thankfully, the Holy Spirit intervened.
“I understand. I know it hurts and stitches are scary, but it’s the only way to fix your chin. And, listen, we’ve all done things we wish we could take back, but the important lesson is that we learn from our mistakes and don’t repeat them.”
I think about Peter who denied Jesus in a most desperate moment. Fear-filled flesh drove his decisions, and the minute the rooster crowed and realization dawned, he wept bitterly. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t change the situation. It was the last time he would see Jesus before the crucifixion. What’s done was done, and regret surely consumed him like a tidal wave.
But days later, that same Jesus he’d denied knowing stood alive and well on the shoreline, inviting him to a warm breakfast. Not to ream him, but to reinstate him. After all, that was Peter’s greatest need. Not to be reminded of his failure but to be reassured that he was still loved. And the longer I parent, the more I understand that it will be my love, not my lectures, that will win over the hearts of my children and better reflect the heart of God.
You may be clutching your chin in fear. Terrified to admit what happened, yet you know you’re in deep. You need help, but you’re afraid to go to God because this situation was self-induced.
Don’t put it off, my friend. Don’t delay. There are consequences to all actions, but they do not affect God’s love and care for you. Whether you’re in the middle of a pit you dug, climbed into one out of curiosity, or you happened off the path and fell straight in, God stands ready to save.
Not because you deserve it. None of us do.
But because God is love.
And nothing will ever change that.
