"You're supposed to be lovin meeeee!" you sobbed with such force it made my heart stand still.
I was in a mood. During playtime, you had drug more than half of your books off the shelf and into the living room. I didn't see you do it or I would have stopped you. We stacked them all on the chair and I half-scolded you for doing it, more bewildered that you did it than anything. You didn't see anything wrong with your idea. You had a reason for doing it, but neither of us were sure of that reason after the fact.
"Okay," I said. "Carry the books back here to the shelf. I'll help you get them on there."
You decided that the one-by-one method of restoring the books back to their home would suffice, but I quickly grew impatient of the whole ordeal.
"This is taking way too long," I huffed, watching you slowly stroll back and forth across the room, handling each and every book as if it were a carton of 36 eggs.
I soon resolved to do it myself and dismissed you of your responsibility in the matter and ordered you to get upstairs and get ready for bed. My tone was way overboard.
"You're supposed to be lovin' meeeee!" The genuine tears of my gentle girl came a-rushing.
It was with those words my heart went from 52 degrees to warm like melted butter. I scooped you into my arms, and right away, you could tell your mommy was sorry for taking whatever it was I was feeling out on you. You knew you didn't do anything wrong. I knew it. We both knew it. You bounced happily upstairs as if nothing at all went wrong.
I wish I had that kind of forgiveness, and forgetfulness. Once again, little teacher, I thank you.
Dear Sadie.
GOD... "I will not remember your sins." Isaiah 43:25
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