Shattered

By the time my son was a year and a half old he was clearly a tech prodigy. He would steal my iPhone and face time or call his friends (his friends being my parents and our pastor, sometimes very early in the morning). At some point, after fighting a losing battle, I figured if he was that determined, at least I should fill my devices with educational apps so we can see something good come out of this obsession.

He loved the songs and the merriment and the games at his fingertips. He had access to the world, and it brought him great joy.

And seeing Kai experience joy gives me joy as well.

A couple of days ago, I let him use my iPad while I took an important phone call. About five minutes in, he started yelling, "mama, iPad!" "Yes, Kai, you have mama's iPad" I replied, trying to get him to settle down. He was insistent on pointing out something, "MAMA, iPAD!" I drew near to make a very disappointing discovery-the screen was shattered. Kai had decided to pretend my hairbrush was a hammer and bashed it into the device repeatedly.

I quickly scooped him up and removed him from the area that now harbored countless glass shards hiding in the carpet. I turned on the tablet to see if would still work at all. The software was fine, but when my thumb slipped across the screen I knew it was unusable, as my skin was torn open by the destruction left behind. Kai continued crying for his, "pie-pad" and we had to have a conversation about how his actions broke it and it would never be the same.

I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me. The funny part is that I wasn't upset that he had broken my expensive electronic, I was upset that he wouldn't have it for his enjoyment anymore.

A while later he came to me crying that his foot was hurt. Immediately, I figured out that a tiny piece of glass must have escaped the path of the vacuum cleaner. Just as I was about to point out that had he not destroyed the iPad he wouldn't have gotten hurt, I looked into the pain in his eyes. It just wasn't in me to belabor the point. I just checked his foot, kissed his "boo-boo", and got down on my hands and knees searching for more rogue pieces. I swept my arms back and forth on the carpet for at least 5 minutes, determined that if any glass remained, it should pierce me and not him.

This has been the story of mankind's relationship with God since the beginning. It's a cycle dating back to Eden of God giving us a means of great joy, trusting us with it, watching as we carelessly destroy it, and then looking on us with undeserved compassion and affection.

My dad used to tell me something his parents said to him- "you will never understand how much I love you until you have a child of your own." He was right. Not only has Kai shown me how my earthly father feels towards me, he has proven what my heavenly Father feels as well. When Kai came crying in pain that resulted from his poor choices, I couldn't help but be moved to compassion for him. When we come crying out to our Father in pain resulting from our poor choices, He is moved as well. It doesn't matter what our sinful decisions shattered-our relationships, jobs, bodies-when we cry out sincerely, He will come running to hold us.

As I looked at my hands at the end of the iPad ordeal, covered in cuts I chose to take in my son's place, the Lord reminded me that's what He did for me. Yes, I have to face earthly consequences for my poor decisions, but He bore the ultimate punishment so I wouldn't have to-and so you wouldn't have to either.

I know this may seem like a major leap to compare a broken iPad with the fall of humanity, but I'm a simple person with simple thoughts, and God spoke to me through the disaster area in my living room.