G carried Sunny while I instinctively but ever so awkwardly carried the heavier Gracie. I decided, in much discomfort, about halfway through our parking lot trek that her 35 pound body riding on my 35 week belly wasn't actually the best idea so I implored G to drop Sunny and instead carry the clumsier, heavier almost two-year old who really actually wanted to walk but would inevitably head straight into the nearest muddy puddle. He obliged and a 3-year-old melt down of epic proportions ensued.
We made a grand entrance into the the buzzing Easter-adorned auditorium foyer, soaking wet and turning heads with our screaming Sunny desperately clawing at our legs and demanding in the most loud and annoying toddler scream/cry/whine to be picked up and carried. It was glorious. My eyes immediately landed on a large bowl of donut holes near the entryway and I somehow broke away from the chaos and made a beeline toward the sugary treats in hopes of a possible diversion/bribe (don't judge) AND because I'm pregnant and pretty much couldn't help myself.
I returned to a newly silent but very sulky Sunny who refused the donut hole and instead thrust her skinny little arms upward in what I assumed was yet another attempt to get me to pick her up--to which I calmly replied "I'm sorry, baby, but Mommy CAN'T carry you."
She quickly corrected my errant assumption and to my surprise cried "no, HUG, Mommy, HUG!"
I knelt down beside her in the middle of that busy foyer and she melted right into my shoulder and cried the sweetest, sorriest tears of apology known to man. It was as if she literally could not take another single step toward her Sunday school classroom until she'd apologized and been forgiven.
It broke me and I couldn't stop thinking about her urgent, emotional apology throughout the service...
About the way it feels to know you messed up and the desperate longing for mercy.
About how it feels to be guilty and sorry and then embraced and loved and forgiven.
About how it feels to be defeated and dead on Friday,
scared and uncertain on Saturday,
and then alive and full of hope everlasting at an empty tomb on Sunday.
Oh, happy day!
1 comment:
Just Beautiful. Thanks, Whitney.
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