I could see the fiery fingerprints on my beloved son’s face.  Even as a heathen, I knew better than to strike a child on the face, and his eyes, the lamps of his soul, plunged me into the darkness of shame and grief before he darted away.  Silently, his older brother picked up the garbage bag, the bone of our contention, and walked outside.

Chaos reigned in this tiny rental house where we temporarily housed our family of seven while looking for something permanent.  Trying to pack lunches for five children before piling them in the van to transport them to Christian school, I was wrapping the brown bags and reminding our middle son to take out the trash when someone turned on the water, drenching the bags, and he loudly protested it wasn’t his turn. Something snapped, and it was me.

I saw movement behind the drapes in the living room.  It was the boy who so wanted to be found. I pulled him into my arms, set aside the day’s reading, and turned to Colossians 3 and Paul’s exhortation to forgive one another even as Christ has forgiven us.  As we drove, my tears continued to fall, and my boy asked:  “Mommy, does the Blood still work today?” When I nodded yes, he replied: “Then you should be glad, not sad.”

When we have offended others and grieved God, we carry the weight as a load.  God calls us to cast our cares upon Him who cares for us. If you have confessed your sin to God and the one you offended, receive the remission of your sins.

Lord, I bring nothing, but I cling to You and receive forgiveness and the pardoning of my sin.