Blame it on extended holiday hours, or too many lights on the Christmas tree, or too much blue in the sky, or just plain old human nature that simply can’t handle too much of anything, including a good thing… whatever the cause, the effect was that right around bedtime the pandemonium broke out. Tempers flared. Fists flew. Fingernails clashed. Words were said. By an executive decision, the baths were suspended and the offenders sent straight to bed. Being stinky never killed anyone.
The next day, even after a good night’s sleep, the memory of what had happened lingered heavy over the household. I would have much preferred to start the new day with a sincere apology, but experience taught me that those can’t – nor should be – coerced. A good scrubbing would have to suffice.
I listened to the water running behind the closed bathroom door, rehearsing ways to address the previous night’s issues without instigating the WWIII in the process. What seemed like eternity later, I heard a tiny voice calling my name.
The moment the door swung open, I was enveloped by the billows of steam, creating a pocket of zero-visibility inside the bathroom. In the middle of it, Child #1 stood wrapped in a bath towel, looking sheepishly at me. The mirror behind was completely veiled in puffy white. Then, with the corner of my eye, I noticed something scribbled on it. As the fog slowly dissipated I read the message:
I am sorry for mugging up the mirrer.
I stared at the writing at a complete loss of what I was supposed to do… Thank the Child #1 for taking such meticulous responsibility for the self-correcting housekeeping infringement?!!?? I had an item or two from The Need to Apologize list I was itching to volunteer that, according to my scale, far exceeded in importance the borderline insulting confession.
I cleared my throat hoping to buy some time in order not to add more steam to the situation from my own boiling over temper. Finally, I spluttered:
Is THAT ALL you have to apologize for?
The Child #1 bowed her head and quietly nodded.
We stood in silence in the middle of the bathroom for about a decade or two. The steam slunk out through the open door, gradually clearing up the large mirror. I noticed our reflection, the furrowed brow, the weighed-down look, the fuzzy towel and the softness of the blushed skin. The peculiar apology, I observed, also disappeared, going the way of the mist.
The anger, the exhaustion, the noise, the words that should never be of last night suddenly resembled the thick haze mucking up the mirror of our lives, clouding up the image of the One we were uniquely designed to reflect… I think how all too easily the baggage of life – the restlessness, fatigue, expectations, disappointments, misunderstandings and sometimes even the high-pitched chords of seasonal happiness - perturb the reflection of the Christ-reality, fogging up the mirror we are uniquely designed to be…
The Child #1 looks up, splatters of bashful hope glistening like droplets dripping from her wet hair.
Perhaps, that’s exactly what we need to apologize for… what I need to be sorry… and broken for … … for perpetually mugging up the mirror of my life…of our lives… obliterating, twisting, marring the image, the reflection of the face of God we are created and cleansed to become…
Then God said, Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness… Genesis 1:26
Alas, even to this day there is still a veil over their hearts when the Scriptures are read – they don’t realize it is removed in Christ. But whenever a man turns to the Lord the veil disappears…But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image… 2 Corinthians 3:14-18
No comments:
Post a Comment