When it Weighs

I knew things were serious.

Partly because my 10-year-old told me so. “Mom, this is serious. I need to talk with you.”

“What is it, my girl?”

Her face twisted, as though the words cascading out caused physical pain. “I did something wrong.” She proceeded to confess what she’d done. It was a big deal, and I prayed for Mama wisdom even as it all spilled out.

When she was done, I could tell she was scared, worried about how I might respond. I made her look me in the eye. “Baby girl, I’m so proud of you.”

She looked at me with wide eyes. What? Had I not heard what she just told me? Was I going mad? Deaf? 

“You told me a hard truth. You were honest. You came to me. And I’m so proud of you. What you did was wrong, no doubt. And there will be consequences, but far fewer than if you’d tried to hide it and I found out another way.”

She nodded, relief washing over her expression. 

She was quiet for a bit, and then her voice, small again, “Mom, the weight on my chest is still there. I thought it would go away when I talked to you.”

Oh, my baby girl. My heart swelled with emotion. Oh, how I knew that feeling. Making a stupid choice. Trying to make it right. Shame weighing me down. 

“Have you talked to Jesus, sweetheart?” I made her look me in the eyes again. “I’m so glad you made it right by coming to me, but He is the one who takes the weight off. He’s the One we hurt when we make stupid choices, and believe me, we all do it. But when you go to him and ask forgiveness, He literally wipes it away. it’s gone. It’s done. The weight is gone.”

I let that sit in the air and prayed she would hear the grace, the goodness, the hope in that truth.

Things got busy and it was an hour later when I noticed her laughing about something else.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, as soon as you told me, I talked to Jesus. I’m good.”

In all simplicity, there it stood. 

Grace.