A Bite of Grace

There is a commercial that shows the Olympic medalists taking a bite of their medals & it says “Celebrate with a bite”. 

Now I have many scars.  (I’m not talking about emotional ones, though I’m sure I have a few of those as well); physical scars, none of which spoke of celebration.  I have a scar on my head where I went through a windshield, scars on my hands where they were torn off by gravel and I had to have the palms sewn over the tops, a scar on my leg where a car landed on top of me and scars on my lip, ear & wrists where Sylvester bit me.  Some of my closest friends bear resemblance as they carry the same scars on their fingers. 

My ‘son’ is adorable, cute, fun and smart.  He knows what he wants, when he wants it and as a parrot his go-to strategy when unhappy is to, yes, BITE.  After 32 years I have gotten a clue.  I watch his facial expressions, garner his movements and listen for sounds of unsettledness. 

But one night I missed the boat.  He was on my head as usual, but I was bent over to read something Roy was showing me.  Sylvester began to slip and I kind of jerked up to keep him from falling.  Therein lay one of my saddest mistakes.  He reached down, grabbed my ear to keep from falling.  I jerked (from pain!) again and he bit down.  My first thought was why do people pierce their ear up here; my second thought?  Set him down carefully so you don’t hurt him.  I calmly walked to his cage, placed him on his perch and began to cry like a little girl.  It hurt so badly and blood was spurting and Roy was freaking out. We got the bleeding under control when I heard, “Boo Hoo Hoo. Vester loves Momma”.  Awe, he knew he hurt his mom.  I went over, picked him up and let him kiss me.  “Are you alright”, he asked.  Yes, mommy is fine.  Life moved on. 

A while later I was talking with God.  I love Him so much. 

"How can you extend so much grace"?

"I love you".

"How can you love disobedience, laziness, unrighteousness..."?

"My father commands it.  Love Him, love you my child."

"I guess I don't understand because I have no children".

"You have Sylvester.  When he bites you, you still reach out your hand to hold him again.  Others won't.  They may care for him, play with him, and even think he is cool - but they won't pick him up.  Only you.  

Only me.  You can bite me with careless words, thought or actions but I will always pick you back up again." Once you say you are sorry, you are forgiven.  Life moves on.