But I didn't earn it

Things had turned from good to bad very quickly.  Maybe it was his fatigue at an unusual day that drained him; maybe it was mine.  It could have been his having to transition from a day with special one-on-one attention to suddenly having his sisters around again (it could have been my having to).  Perhaps it was just the way this Tuesday night was destined to go.  Either way, the sweet, listening, fun-loving boy I had spent several hours with earlier, was now screaming how mean and stupid I was, as he threw his dirty clothes across the room at me.

I wish I could say this is unusual behavior, and for the most part it is.  But unfortunately the truth is that about once a week, it is usual, as our little man's temper fuse gets lit unexpectedly, and burns hotter and hotter as the night comes to an end.  It's something we're working on (but that's another post for another time - GOD willing when I have more answers as to how to deal with it).

But on this particular night, amidst the rising tempers on the sides of both generations, he was informed that he would not get to spend the next day with his Nonna if he did not calm down.

And of course, he didn't.  At least not as soon as we had hoped.

The next morning Adrian woke up, and after a few minutes of our usual routine, he looked at me with suddenly downcast eyes and said, "I'm really sad that I don't get to go with Nonna today."

Squatting down, I put my hand under his chin and lifted his gaze to mine as I said with a smile I was sure would bring about his, "You do get to go with Nonna!"  Expecting him to be ecstatic and so grateful for my offering, I was not prepared for his response.  What he said next is still burned within me.

"But, I didn't earn it." 

I was struck!  It was said with a horrible mix of sadness and question.  He was right, he hadn't.  He was confused, that wasn't our deal.  He was still sad, this didn't make any sense. 

I'll admit, it was a mystery even to me.  It seemed too good to be true, so much so that he didn't know how to accept it.  The reality of his undeservedness weighed heavily on him.  Why would I forgive and grant something so special to someone who had so blatantly chosen to disobey, disrespect and turn away just a few hours before? 

Looking into those sad eyes, I was caught in a moment of motherly what-to-say.  Within a split second I had what felt like a year-long debate with myself, before out of nowhere I heard myself saying:

"I know.  But Jesus forgives us, so we need to forgive each other."

That was it.  That was all I could figure out to say.  But, with my hand still under his chin, I saw the adorable little grin I had been expecting a few moments earlier, finally emerge.  And it was so beautiful!    

* * * * * *

I wish I could say that I meant to teach my son a deep theological lesson.  I wish the truth isn't that I just didn't want to admit that it had been an empty threat, that plans were already in place (and because of our work schedule and lack of other options) he was going to be watched by his Nonna regardless.  I wish the truth isn't that in that split second I was searching my memory for something good he did in the terror of last night's tantrum to warrant this reward he was hoping for. 

I wish I had actually meant to recognize the powerful mystery going on, and who gives it to us.

But the truth is, I just said something that popped into my head after all those other thoughts. 

It wasn't until I saw that beautiful smile - the sweet relief that mercy offers and joy that being loved brings - that I realized how powerful forgiveness might be, for both of us. 

* * * * * *

Forgiveness.
Mercy.
Being granted something we haven't earned.

These are powerful things.  Beautiful things.  

And while theologically I know this, seeing it realized between my son and I that ordinary Wednesday morning, brought about an altogether new understanding for me.

Pope Francis said in his book The Name of God is Mercy, that "The most important thing in the life of every man and every woman is not that they should never fall along the way.  The important thing is always to get back up, not to stay on the ground licking your wounds."

My son has always been one to "lick his wounds."  His anxiety, his dealing with feelings of guilt and self failure, his deep sensitivity and his hesitancy to accept forgiveness have often led to sorrow taking hold of one who seems too young to me to have to bear such weight.  Yet he does.  And it can push him down, keep him down.  His is a personality in which it can be difficult to get back up from sometimes. 

And I know where he gets it from.  Dealing with that same personality, how many times do I fall under the weight of my own undeservedness?  Feelings of guilt at all I have done wrong or what I could have done better.  Being overwhelmed by all the blessings I have done nothing to earn.  Being loved even when I am at my worst.  These things catch me off guard sometimes, and I find myself pushed down by the sorrow, unsure how to get back up and questioning the mysterious hand often extended.     

I imagine we all find ourselves fallen along the way at times.  Maybe you too find yourself lying there, "licking your wounds," easier to stay down than to accept the mysterious gift of the one that would help us to stand again.    

But there is forgiveness.
There is mercy.
There are things offered that we haven't earned.

Powerful things.  Beautiful things.

It is a mystery.  It seems too good to be true, so much so that we don't always know how to accept it.  The reality of undeservedness weighs heavily.  Why would He forgive and grant something so special to someone who so blatantly chooses to disobey, disrespect and turn away?

But Christ puts his almighty hand beneath our chin, lifts our gaze to meet his, and smiles at us . . .


* * * * * *

We can't earn so much of what we are given in this life, especially GOD's mercy.  But we are given it nonetheless, given it by a GOD who wants so badly to see us smile, that incredible smile we make when we know how loved we are.

I wish I could say that I meant to teach this theological lesson to my son that morning.  But the truth is that as quickly as my brain scrambled to figure out what to say in response to his comment, my brain was flooded with thoughts about what my response meant for us.  And in the following split second, I learned that, unlike my feeble attempts at parenting, GOD's mercy is not about empty threats.  When he promises love and life, he follows through!  (Or perhaps, in a way, it is about empty threats - because no matter what we do, we are still going to get the prize!) 

I learned that, unlike a Momma frantically searching her inner-dialogue for answers, GOD doesn't have to search His memory too deeply to find goodness in us, something to warrant His love.  We are His children, and thus there is always the last-chance for goodness to redeem ourselves, no matter how late we scream into the night. 

I learned that like my son and his struggles, my struggles too are met with a merciful hand to help me back up.  I need not stay down. 

I learned that forgiveness, mercy, being granted something we haven't earned - these are powerful things, beautiful things.  I learned (again) to trust this truth. 


And by the look of that beautiful little smile, Adrian learned these things too. 

* * * * * *

I didn't set out to teach my son a lesson.  Yet together we learned to understand a deeper reality that we are invited into when thrown together into the messiness of being human and family and followers of Christ. 

I didn't earn it.  

It was in itself yet another offering of mercy, blessings this undeserving mother with a deep sense of relief and being loved...and a smile.