Tuesday, September 30, 2008

this morning, i called my mother.

this must be prefaced with a snippet of a conversation between myself and said mother yesterday: (any spanish has been translated for your convenience)

mami: i just can't tell you that...i don't really feel that it's appropriate (referring to my sister)
me: that's not fair mom, i don't even feel like i'm part of the family anymore
mami: don't say that.that's not it at....
me: mom, i have to go now.
mami: really?
me: yea, really. bye.

i know, harsh. to be completely honest, i really just felt like picking a fight that day, and my mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. although, technically, i'm the one that put her there by calling.

anyway...afterwards, i felt really guilty. my mom is a wise woman, and she tells me everything, so if she chooses not to, it's for a reason.

so, today, i picked up the phone and called her again. she answered like she always does, like a mother who hasn't seen her daughter in years, and lives for every phone call, any sign that I'm still alive. (i don't actually go years without seeing my mother, but you wouldn't know it from the sound of her voice)

she sounds pleasantly surprised, not having expected the call, seeing as i don't usually talk to her as often as two days in a row.

so i tell her why i called...to mend our temporarily broken relationship...and she laughs. (of course, i didn't use those exact words, it was more along the lines of "don't you remember our conversation yesterday?")

the point is that she laughed. she went on to say that it was no big deal...she had already forgotten about it, and that she completely understood that i didn't have time to talk and that i was feeling left out, etc. then she changed the subject and asked me about my day. the conversation went on for a while, and no mention of our little argument ever came up again.

the whole time, i couldn't get over it. i couldn't understand how my mother could forgive me so easily and be completely okay with never bringing up the subject again. i could have called her a week later and she would still have greeted me with nothing but delight.

i love my mother.

and i think God was using her as a little reminder of who He is.
how many times have i wallowed in my mistakes, scared that God hasn't forgotten and that i'm still held accountable?
and yet, everytime i come before Him, my mistakes escape Him. He's just happy i'm there.

Love, krystal

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