Cereal Aisle Theology

The morning I finally got it probably looked like any other day for any other suburban mom . I was paying homage to bulk items at the local Costco, while pushing a mammoth cart. In the mammoth cart were two children with similarly-sized energy levels. In the frozen meat section, they began tickling each other. By the coffee aisle, my girl and boy were in full-fledged wrestle-mode. Kiddie WWF was going down next to the selection of cereal when my son shrieked and grabbed his shoulder.

"Hadley bit me!"

"Hadley Ann! Did you bite your brother?"

With huge brown eyes made wider by fear, the tears came. She screamed apologies at her brother with such panic that her voice echoed throughout the store.

"Hadley, you know that we don't bite. When we get home, you are getting a consequence for this."

Louder screams. Terror was taking over and the tears came faster than before. Other shoppers hurried by with raised eyebrows. I wasn't phased by this circus. Let them stare. But when came next from Hadley's brother floored me.

"Mom. Mom! This isn't about Hadley. It's about me."

"Bear, how is this about you?"

"Remember that time I threw a fit at church and you told me I'd get a consequence at home? But then we got home and talked and you gave me grace."

I did remember. Very clearly. I knew his memory was excellent, but the story he referred to happened well over a year ago. And, obviously, he was not the one in the hot seat this time around.

"I do remember, buddy. I remember hearing God speak to my heart. He wanted me to show you grace that day when you deserved a big consequence. Are you telling me I should give Hadley grace?"

"Yes."

The kid did not hesitate. I pressed a bit more.

"So your sister bit YOU, but you want to give her grace?"

"Yes".

"Well, that's your call. If you'd like to show Hadley grace, I will definitely let you do that."

The biter had calmed herself and was listening intently to the conversation. Once it was decided she'd be shown grace, complete anarchy ensued. My daughter screamed louder than before.

"I don't want gwaaaaaaaace!"

My precocious three year old did not understand the concept of grace and assumed it was something to be feared. There in the cereal aisle of Costco, I watched my son explain grace to my daughter. I filled in the gaps and helped him as needed, which wasn't much. The kid remembered a day I'd had mercy on him when he deserved punishment. But more importantly, he was taking that experience and extending it to another person. I was stunned. And I got grace in a way I hadn't before.

Kids are funny like that. You spend your days sounding off the same old song and dance. The should's and should not's. The list of behaviors that are acceptable and those that aren't. It gets to where you wonder what is really sinking in and if you're doing even an OK job at this parenting gig. And then out of the blue, they knock your socks off with something like the idea of grace. God is certainly creative with the way He speaks to us!

Fast forward a few hours to bed-time. My husband had asked Hadley to brush her teeth one too many times. As he rounded the corner into her bedroom to serve up some justice, she jumped up defiantly.

"Bubba gave me GWACE!"

And from another bedroom, our son could be heard also shouting.

"No I'm not!"

We're all a work in progress, folks.