Wearing "Wheelies"

“What are we doing here again?” asked eight year old Lia as we walked into church for the second time on this particular Sunday. 

“ Father Joe is celebrating his 40^th anniversary of being a priest. Remember to be on your best behavior and don’t run in the hall and …” as I attempted to finish the list of warnings, Lia seemed to be overcome by gravity and would have been on the ground if I hadn’t grabbed her hand and kept her upright. 

That was when I noticed she was wearing her wheelies….well, that’s what I called them.  I think they were actually called Heely’s.   They were the hand me downs from her sister that were two sizes too big, which she had just tried on for the first time that morning.  These were the wheelies that had been Gabriella’s most coveted possession for all of one day a few years back.  They are a mother’s worst nightmare. They are contraptions that have little wheels sticking out of the heel to propel an already unstable young human being forward and backward at high speeds in public places where they should only be standing anyway.  At this moment, the public place was church…a place that she had trouble enough standing still in on a normal occasion.

“WHAT do you have on your feet?” I asked frozen just steps inside the church.

“My Heely’s,” she enthusiastically replied without an ounce of regret. 

I wanted to give her a sermon on why wheelies and church do not go together, on how irresponsible it was of her to wear shoes like that when we were also going to head straight from the celebration to her sister’s soccer game and her grandparent’s house, and more than anything I wanted to give her a good push and send her wheeling out the door. 

But I felt sorry for her little body that kept jerking forward and back and up and down in such random movements.  And I thought about St. Francis’ line we had just sung in church that very morning:  “where there is injury, help us to offer your pardon, Lord”. 

My heart went out to her as I thought of times when I didn’t use my best discretion either.  When I had been a bit too excited about something to think clearly and responsibly and God had offered me forgiveness.    I thought of how sometimes I must appear to God as a mom on wheelies… slipping and sliding all over out of control by trying to be everything to everyone.   I can feel many times like God is catching me and pushing me on only to watch me flail around more.  But his love for me is so huge that he’ll be there every time I find myself on those darn wheels again. 

Forgiveness is an integral part of my relationship with my heavenly Father as well as my girls. Many days it is pardoning MYSELF that I need the most help with.  I get so frustrated with the mistakes I make and need to remember that God has already forgiven me.  If the almighty Creator of everything and everyone can forgive me, I guess I can forgive myself too.  God is patient and knows that I’ll become stronger from the falls.  

When I get upset at something the girls do, like wearing wheelies to a church event, I need to take a step back and remember how God has pardoned me, so that I may be a channel of that forgiveness to them.

Do I forget sometimes?   Of course, but then God grants graces or sends angels…like my husband who that day we were headed into church remembered that the wheels could be taken out and so stuck them in his pocket for the luncheon. 

And so she wore those big cloppity shoes for the rest of the day and I can’t say I didn’t crack half a smile when she declared that she was getting blisters. Pardoning her injury was my job, learning her lesson the hard way was hers.