The morning was crisp on the mountain. I looked out the window and watched the mist of the morning walk between the trees like ghosts. I stared past the woods and watched the nugget of sun break past the curve of the mountain and give everything in its path a purple orange haze. I was having coffee with my mom in her kitchen. We were sitting beside her Palladian window and we began reminiscing about memories, my childhood and dreams we never let go. My mother is 84. She is leaving the dream home she and dad built many years ago on land that has been in her family for generations. More than fifty years of marriage is tucked away in this house and I came to visit and to help her pack.
She brought up her grandchildren. As she often will and commented that hers were some of the best. I chuckled at her bragging, but couldn't disagree, because I consider my nieces top notch and my own two children quite extraordinary. I laughed but became serious as I and told her that sometimes I don't feel as if I deserve my kids. She put the pan of biscuits in the oven and closed the door loudly and said, "Why?"
"Because even though they're not perfect...they're good kids. They have their moments, but overall they are well behaved." She looked at me muddled, "And?"
I dropped my head and felt like I was 10 years old again. "Because I wasn't a good kid. I was such a pain sometimes. You and Dad put up with a lot." I shrugged.
My mom looked at me, shrugged her own shoulders and said, "You were fine."
"No, Mom!! I wasn't! Remember that time you picked me up from a play date and I screamed I didn't want to go? I thrashed about in the front yard and said horrible things. Do you remember?"
I watched my mother purse her lips and shrug again. "No. I don't remember any of that."
"Mom!" I insisted. "I was dreadful that day. You had to drag me to the car. I behaved so badly."
She shrugged and fanned her hands out - "It's in the past. It's forgotten."
"I never forgot about it. It embarrassed me. My behavior. How did you put up with it? I was disrespectful."
"I don't remember it."
I'm not sure if my mother truly forgot it - or if she let it go as one of those parenting experiences that are better turned over and moved past. But something registered with me that day. My mother "forgetting" my bad mistakes and ill-mannered behavior was a perfect illustration of Christ "overlooking" all of our daily errors. We keep remembering and bringing it up, but once He's forgiven us, then it's over. He's moved on and so should we.
How many times do we hang on to a sin, an indiscretion or a mistake? How many times do we keep bringing it up to Him? How unworthy do we make ourselves feel in His presence?
In the words of my mother - "It's in the past. It's forgotten."
She still loves me....and so does He.
Seeds to Share:
Isaiah 43:25 - I am He who blots out your transgressions for my sake and remembers your sins no more.