Mud Slinging

I don't go to the park with my kids. Don't worry, my husband takes them because he gets it. Honestly, I just can't negotiate other people's children. I'll never forget the time a 5 year old went up to my 3 year old who had been playing at a voice amplifier and started screaming, "Shut up!!" That same day, a little girl did the super unsafe act of going down the slide face first. Both instances turned into me going up to my son, who attempted to emulate the bad behavior, and while staring down the other child said loudly, "No buddy, we don't say/do that. I don't care what ANYBODY else's kid does, we do not act like that." I looked around the park to see what checked out parents these kids belonged to, and was met with eye rolls and a caption bubble above their heads that said, "Come on, lady, we're on a break."

In that moment, I saw this behavior as muddying up my kids, and I couldn't believe other parents didn't care. If my boys were slinging mud at other people, I would address it right away! As I followed after my toddler, playing with him so he didn't need other kids, I heard the Holy Spirit speak into my analogy, "If your son really had mud thrown at him, would you address him, or the kid who threw it first?" OF COURSE I would tend to my child first! What kind of question is that? "What if he screamed 'Don't worry about me! Get them!" My heart would break for him, but I would still clean him up first. I realized where this was going, and it's not a place I let God go often.

For someone who is a Christ follower, I'm really bad at forgiveness. If we're being real, I know moral humanists who are more forgiving than I am. Most of the people I had to forgive as a child were repeat offenders, not safe and to continue attempting interaction with them lead to further damage to my heart. Absolving them from judgement seemed like the most nonsensical thing I could have imagined. Now if you're like me, you've heard people say, "Unforgiveness is like a poison you drink hoping it kills someone else," usually with the caveat added that the people who have done wrong against you don't care. I never understood that; unforgiveness for me felt like that magic bubble I wrapped myself in so as not to be subjected to the bad behavior of others. In the park, though, the Holy Spirit showed me I was that child, caked in mud, pointing at her offenders, screaming to be vindicated.

How my Mama heart broke for the picture of that little girl! I examined the mud smeared into her hair, across her mouth, caked into her shirt, splattered on every part and just wanted to wash her in the biggest tub with the most luxurious bubbles and comfort her while restoring her beauty and glory. I thought about the Holy Spirit's question with my 3 year old as the example, and if he spit the vitriol that I had heard come from my own mouth, I would be devastated, because he would be telling me to do something that as a parent I could not do: Make his healing second to revenge. Throwing another child into a pit wouldn't wash the mud off of mine, and while I understand that in context being a mother, I hadn't understood it in context of being a daughter of my Father.

About a month before Easter, I shared this little vision with some friends, who offered to pray with me, and lead me through washing off the mud. It took me 2 hours to forgive 8 people. The last few, I literally wanted to crawl inside of myself, hide under a table, do anything except continue because I had seen unforgiveness like a protective barrier for so long that as I let it go, I felt so unsafe, more so than any time I can remember. I struggled to breathe as the last matted pieces were brushed out but when I finally felt like my head had come above the water, I was clean. I looked at myself for the first time in years and didn't feel defined by this calcified hate. In no way did I forget what had been done to me, and the process didn't remove any physical boundaries that were absolutely healthy to maintain with those who've proven themselves untrustworthy, or make what had happened to me suddenly okay, as I thought forgiveness would do. Instead, I had let my Father bathe me in love and confidence, restoring beauty and dignity. I let myself weep for the wounded little girl I was, and received the comfort vengeance wouldn't have given, my tears washing away all signs of compressed anger.

Isaiah 61 says that God bestows a crown of beauty in exchange for our ashes, the anointing of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. He calls those who receive such oaks of righteousness, planted by the Lord, for the display of His splendor. I felt strong in my bubble which slowly grew into a fortress, blocking out even the possibility of being hurt, but I was made to display the healing glory of God. I don't feel as strong anymore, but I feel clean. I feel free. I feel radiant and I feel more equipped to handle how to love my sons when someone actually does pick up a dirt clod and throw it at them. I hope to see you in that same display of brilliant restoration and would love to pray with you if you need help washing off.