I don't allow eating in my family room. I have a personal conviction about eating in front of the T.V. but also - I got 5 kids. They make a mess. I like to limit the mess to the kitchen. Where there are vinyl floors. And washcloths.
Yesterday one of the twins poured herself a tall glass of red Kool Aid. Now, this is a double edged sword. On the one hand; Yeah! she can get her own drink and doesn't need me to serve her every time she's thirsty. But on the other hand; Boo! She often pours with a vengeance creating a wicked splash back. My kitchen counter tops are permanently stained grape and cherry red. Not kidding.
Yesterday my daughter poured her own drink and proceeded to sneak it into the family room.
While working at his desk my darling husband noticed Bell was on the stairs, not watching T.V. He thought this was strange since he knew I gave the kids permission to watch a movie. He asked, "Honey, why aren't you watching your movie?"
Bell cowered on the stairs.
Her nature was disturbing so DH probed further, "What's the matter, baby?"
She backed up out of his sight.
He pursued her. Attempted to gather her in his arms. She refused his comfort, eyes big as saucers, silent as a mute. Then he noticed she had on a new set of clothes.
"Bell," he firmly insisted "What's wrong?"
Nothing. Diverted eyes. Crossed arms.
"Tell Daddy! What happened!"
Slight shake of head.
"Show me, baby. Can you at least show me what's wrong?"
Bell took her daddy by the hand and led him to her laundry basket where he discovered her new birthday shirt stained with cherry Kool Aid. Tears began to spill down her cheeks.
"Where did you spill this?" he asked.
Again, no words, she silently led him to the family room where the movie was still playing and the chair and floor were covered in a sticky, wet mess.
Aaron called for me to bring towels. I cleaned the mess and he cuddled Bell. I overheard him encourage her.
"Bell you should never hide when you do something wrong. You can always tell me. Maybe your mommy and I can help you when you make a mistake. Please don't hide from me, honey. I love you even when you make a mistake."
I watched as her big, brown eyes focused on her daddy's face. Her lip quivered as she was learning a very important lesson. My heart beat four times bigger as I watched as she listened to Aaron's voice and then buried her head in the crook of her fathers neck, her little arms gripping for dear life.
DH asked me later if I thought the reason why Bell didn't tell him what she had done was because she was afraid of him. I don't think so.
Genesis 3:10 He (Adam) answered, "I heard you in the garden, and I
was afraid because I was naked; so I hid" NIV
I think it's in our nature to hide when we know we've done something wrong. I don't think Bell hid from Aaron because she was afraid of him. I think Bell hid because she was aware she had been disobedient. And disobedience begets consequences. We hate consequences, don't we?
Once I hid the fact that I had dented the bumper of Aaron's truck. Another time, I put a place mat over a watermark I created, destroying the beauty of our antique buffet. I didn't confess when I dropped the computer down the stairs.
On and on .... I could list all the times I've hid my mistakes. When I sin I don't even have time to plot and scheme my cover up I just .... do it. I just instinctively cover up my errors.
I think since the beginning of time it's been evident that it's our nature to hide our sin from God.
From our loved ones.
From ourselves.
If my daughter had not confessed her spill, her new shirt and my wood floors would have been ruined. Instead, because she shared her mistake we were able to do our best to help. I soaked the shirt and cleaned the floors.
Spilled Kool Aid is so small in the scheme of life. In fact, no traces of the accident even remain at this point. That's because she's 6.
But the lesson to be learned is eternal.
We all make mistakes.
And we are inclined to hide when we've sinned.
But confession leads to forgiveness.
And in the arms of forgiveness our burdens are lifted.
God, help me to remember this moment the next time I screw up.