the rules

This morning dawned cold and dark and quiet, but as I lay in the bed, my mind was already up, active, waiting for the alarm.  My oldest beat me to it.  She came into the bedroom early in her school uniform, hair tidied and belt in place, knee highs at the ready and teeth already brushed.  A full hour before we needed to be arriving to school.  I shooed her away and she was satisfied to read while curled on her made-up bed.  Soon hot coffee filled the pot and the washing machine hummed.  Lunches packed, morning prayers said.  A sense of orderliness welcomed the day. 

I am thoughtful because last night we had an accident at the house. The seven and four year old were playing before dinner, laughing and chasing one another from room to room. We have a rule about not running inside, but I was busy with dinner preparations and didn’t pause to lay down the law. So right in front of me, the little one takes a quick turn into the kitchen with her brother close on her heels, just as big sister opens a drawer.  Clock!  She takes it right between the eyes, the sharp wooden corner on tender flesh.   Blood, tears, the floor shifts and my head spins as I try to assess the injury with four sets of eyes peering over my shoulder. I am a surgeon’s daughter; I should have a stomach for these things.

A gaping laceration between the eyes.  We coo and bandage and offer a lollipop to the rule-breaker who was just broken in turn. 

The heavenly parallels are so obvious, should I even state them?  The Lord issues his decrees, writes them down word by word, those onion-skinned delicate pages that we so oft ignore.  But their contents are durable, practical, tailored to our sin nature.  To protect us from us.

God is a god of love.  He instructs us but will not rule over us.  We have every chance to turn those pages and absorb his guidance and follow.  He will not yell, give us time outs, threaten us with no dessert.  He doesn't need to.  He knows the consequences to come. He watches and, in his mercy, His presence stands alongside us—the distance of a kitchen drawer to a mother putting a spoon in the salad.   And after we bend the rules, he will comfort us when the boo-boos come.