Grace and Forgiveness

Noah and I had a knock-down-drag-out last night.  I'm not proud of any of it.  I was certainly not the adult in the situation, nor did I behave maternally.  I was at my wit's end with some of his recent behaviors, my anxiety and stress levels have been sky high, and I took it out on my child.  I said something no mother should ever say to her child, I blamed him for something, and I was just plain wrong.  I knew the second the words were out of my mouth, I had gone too far.  WAY too far.  I saw the look on his face, and my heart fell.  I knew I needed to apologize, but at that point in the argument, I was going for shock value.  I wanted to get his attention, and I had done just that.  I sent him to bed and stomped off.

Once I calmed down, I begged forgiveness from God. I was so far off the maternal train tracks.  I went to Noah's room to apologize, but he was (pretending to be) already asleep.  I kissed him good night, whispered that I love him, then went to the kitchen table to write out an apology.  No excuses, no explanations--just, "I was horribly wrong, and I'm so very sorry."  I left the note on the kitchen table for him to find this morning.

In the same way I'm grateful for God's continual grace and forgiveness, I'm incredibly grateful my son forgave me.  He came in and gave me a hug, we both apologized for our part in last night's fight, and we hugged.  Hard.  We agreed today is a new day, and to start over.

Apologizing is hard sometimes.  Most of us don't like to admit it when we're wrong.  Here's what I think though--there's no room for that kind of pride in parenthood.  There are times when we are wrong, and we must admit it to our children.  Forgiveness can be even more difficult that apologizing.  It only hurts us when we don't though.  I'm proud of Noah for being able to forgive me, especially when I certainly did not deserve it.

Here's the other thing--words hurt.  They sting, and they stick around.  Our voices, and our words become the tape our children play in their heads.  What I did was horribly wrong.  Noah may have forgiven me, but now I worry he's hearing what I said in his head.  My intention, my mission, as a mom has always been to only build my children up.  Yes, there are times they need to hear something that isn't so good, that isn't so uplifting--but that's not the tape I want playing in their heads.  At the end of the day, I am responsible for what I put in their heads, what they hear, and what I help them choose to believe about themselves.  Last night, I tore my child down.  I may have done permanent damage, and he could end up blaming himself, the way I blamed him.

I can't undo what I said.  I can't take it back.  I can apologize, he can forgive me, but I cannot erase it from his mind.  I know the inside of his brain because it's just like mine, and I know what I said will resonate with him for months, possibly even years, to come.

In the end, Noah may forgive me--but can I forgive myself?