My youngest, four, said that to me in Glenwood Springs, CO recently. But I get ahead of myself.
As you may know, we recently returned from a three week adventure in the Southwestern US: think Grand Canyon, Canyonlands, Capital Reef, Arches and more. We packed up the SUV, affectionately dubbed “Brighty” after Brighty of Grand Canyon fame, and camped and hiked our way across the country. SO. FUN.
We had just settled into our hotel room after camping in the wilderness, and when I say wilderness, I mean wilderness: harrowing driving, no water unless you brought it with you, no cell phone coverage, and no other people. As a result, we were looking forward to hot showers, movies, pizza, pop for the kids, and cold beer for the parents.
I was engrossed in watching an HGTV show, when I heard a screech from my husband, turned, and saw that my little man had spilled root beer-a freak accident, really-on my newish MacBook Pro. Oh no. Stifling the curse words that sprang to my mouth, I grabbed the computer and quickly swabbed at the spill, hoping against hope that the computer wasn’t ruined. Let me insert here that I’m not, at least in my estimation, a particularly materialistic person. I don’t like to shop nor do I like a lot of stuff. However, when I purchase something I try to purchase something that’s a quality item and will last me a good long while. And the computer represented a real investment in Queen P.
His little face had crumpled and he choked out: “I’m sorry, mom.” Instead of offering immediate forgiveness I gave some lecture about needing to be careful around the computer. In a rather sharp, loud voice, I might add. Withholding forgiveness.
Jesus tells a story of a man who owed a debt, a debt so large that it was beyond his ability to ever pay it off. The king–a magnanimous man I’m guessing–forgave the debt and released him from debtors prison. As the story goes, another man owed the recently released prisoner some money: a small, payable amount. The former prisoner, unwilling to forgive the debt or to set up a payment plan (!) had the man thrown in jail. The king heard the story and as you might guess, was ticked, so ticked in fact, that he had the man thrown in prison, again. Lying in bed that night, I realized with searing clarity that I was like the man unwilling to forgive a small debt. And I sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. The next morning, my son woke up; the first thing he said to me:
“Mom, I so sorry about your computer.”
Me, with tears running down my face: “I forgive you.”
He clasped his little arms around my neck, squeezed tight and whispered: “You are a rainbow mom.”
I was still sick to my stomach about the loss, but reconciled to the fact that I would either buy a new laptop or make due with the old beast provided by my workplace.
Still, I held out hope that it might work. I stowed the computer safely away in our vehicle and we headed home to WI. Once home and nervous about the outcome, I hit the power button. Nothing. Plugged it in. Nothing. I found a weird spurt of energy and started painting the living room (this makes sense, right?), while trying to bite back the tears of frustration and disappointment. And then: a sound. The Macbook Pro had returned from the dead.
If forgiveness makes me a “rainbow mom,” I’ll take it over a sleek, working MacBook Pro any day, though I definitely prefer one that works.
One of the many lessons learned and relearned on our three week adventure. I’ll share some more soon, and I promise, promise, promise that I’ll write that last garden post-you know, just in time for winter. : )
Thanks for reading, amigos,
No Comments