Fields of Green: The chocolate

"Sweetie, did you eat Mama's chocolate?"

Long pause. My mother-heart maybe skipped a beat because I felt it coming. The first really-truly lie. Like the first time I heard that defiant little "No!" yelled at me from the top of the stairs. I'd told her no more chocolate, but then I stupidly left it out in front of her on the coffee table while I went upstairs to put away some laundry.

She looked at me. I looked at her. Then she sighed a little, and her eyes dropped.

"Yeah...I sowwy. But it's o-tay Mama. We get you some more tomorrow."

So I laughed. Because she meant it with her whole heart. We talked about disobeying. But the first really-truly lie still waits.

It will happen. I know it will. Because she is human and she is preciously imperfect and I love her just as much no matter what.

I feel like there's a funny little cultural battle getting a little extra attention at the moment. It's nothing new, but I'm seeing a lot of articles about right and wrong and accepting and unaccepting and judging and not judging and loving vs. not loving and letters being written from parents to kids about accepting them for who they are no matter what. Which I whole-heartedly agree with.

Except since when did our society decide that telling someone that something they are doing is wrong is the same thing has not loving them?

If I've made anything clear in this little piece-of-my-heart blog, it's how much I love this child of mine. I, like I expect of any mother, love her more than my own life. I would do anything for her. Jump in front of trainsandbusesandcars and leap out of planes and clean up her throw up and run to kiss her boo-boos and stay up all night to check her temperature. And the first time she feeds me that first really-truly lie, I will tell her that was wrong.

Because I love her. Because I want her to act justly and love mercy and walk humbly. Because I value her heart, and the ifs-ands-hows-whys of the choices she makes and the stances she takes and what she believes.

She will struggle in life. She will make bad choices. She will turn away from what is right and try to do things her way. There will be some battles that she will fight over and over and over again and I will fight right beside her, trying my best to point her to what is right and giving her grace when she needs it and forgiveness seventy times seven billion times.

Because Jesus does that for me. Jesus, whose best friends included prostitutes and thieves. Jesus, who could say, "Hey, yo, I like you. A lot. But it's not okay to be a prostitute or a thief. I'm about having life and having it to the full. Follow me and things are going to be better, so much better, than anything you can ask or imagine. Let's go." Jesus, who was never afraid to call someone out on their junk while still living life right beside them and who died for them all anyway.