God used my son to show me a lesson this morning.
For the past five days Jordan has had to take an antibiotic. I neglected to ask for it in liquid form when the doctor called it in. So we, his father and I, decided now was as good a time as any to learn to swallow a pill.
The first three times he swallowed them with very little difficulty. Hallelujah. But for some reason I still can’t explain, he suddenly began to have problems. He would sit and sit…and sit. No amount of cajoling, pleading, screaming or threatening could get him to swallow them easily or quickly.
I dreaded the morning and evenings with a passion. We began to pray before each time that the Lord would help Jordan to have the confidence to swallow easily and without any difficulty.
This week I had morning duty at school, meaning I was responsible for being there at 7:00am. We had also run out of breakfast food, so I had planned to make a quick stop at McDonald’s on the way to school. I woke Jordan up earlier than usual in hopes we would have plenty of time.
He started with the first pill at 7:10. At 7:30 all patience was gone. We finally pulled out of the driveway at 7:40, both of us at our wits’ end. I tried to tell Jordan that even though it made me so frustrated when he chose not to swallow, I still loved him. I went into another explanation of how important it was for him to take all of these pills because it was an antibiotic, and how I couldn’t take the pill for him—he had to do it himself. And the lecture went on all the way to the restaurant.
He finally looked at me and said, “Mom, would you just please forgive me.”
I took a breath, really wanting to say, “Yes, but….” and go into how if he was really sorry he would change his behavior and try harder. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
My son was asking my forgiveness.
I knew the likelihood that our pill-swallowing episodes were finished was slim to none. But in that instance, all he wanted—what he needed— was to know I would forgive him.
How many times have I gone to God with the same bad habit, the same mistake, and asked him to forgive me—again? Let me assure you they are too numerous to count.
And yet, He forgives—every time, even knowing He will most likely hear the same plea from me very soon.
So, I turned to my son and told him, “I forgive you.”
And I told him I loved him, and we wouldn’t talk about our bad morning any more. It was over and in the past—just like our heavenly father does for us, over and over and over again.