They say a picture is worth a thousand words and this one would certainly qualify. I remember this moment as though it happened yesterday. This particular permutation of the daily squabbles among my three munchkins was not the norm. Patrick (my peace maker) was rarely the villain on the scene.
My two bookends, Rob and Peter, maybe..
But I can assure you that minutes after this photo frame the three of them were playing nicely and had forgotten about the theft of the baby doll. Why would they continue to fight when they have one another to play with? Forgive and forget. So easy at this age.
This same scene in 20 years could potentially have a different outcome. You betray me or take something that belongs to me and it may be very difficult for me to forgive you.
Because I am stubborn. Because I have this thing called pride. Because I don’t respect the history we have had together and am not willing to put aside my “rightness” in order to mend the relationship and find a way to move on from here. Or perhaps I just don’t know how to do it.
How do we seek forgiveness?
Have a contrite heart. Be vulnerable. Put pride aside. Admit to being wrong, or stubborn, or cross, or oversensitive. Then ask for forgiveness.
Allow God’s grace and mercy to work their magic. And begin anew.
Ok.. I am sitting here enjoying a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon so I guess I am not giving up red wine for Lent. Do I really have to give something up? Why not add something significant. Why not do something out of my comfort zone. Something that matters. Something that makes me uncomfortable or that makes me stray from my neurotic daily routine.
I’ve been toying with the idea of living life with more awareness and intention. Not multitasking. Not flitting from here to there. Not changing the subject mid-conversation.
Living with intention.
So cooking a meal is just cooking a meal. It’s not talking on the phone and cooking a meal. It’s not checking my email and cooking. It’s just cooking.
And reaching for my seat belt after getting into my car is not reaching with one hand and turning on the radio with the other one and checking to see if I have gas and wondering if I need my oil changed. It’s just reaching for my seat belt.
Calling my step mother and asking how she is doing is not just a task that I can check off my list of things to do but actually a loving and intimate communication with a woman who stepped in and decided to love me and my family even though we aren’t really related.
Are you giving something up for Lent?
Or are you adding something that challenges you, stretches you, makes you stop and think?