I was a pretty compliant preschooler so I never got a spanking. But I came close to having my buns warmed the day I spotted a big box of laundry detergent, took it outside, poured it into my sandbox, ran the hose on it, and turned the entire backyard into a giant bubble bath worthy of the fanciest spa.
A firm hand on my hose-wielding arm abruptly interrupted my glee. The hand belonged to my mother. With it, Mom marched me upstairs to my bedroom.
“Do not ever do that again,” she said sternly. “Wait here until your father gets home. He’s going to give you a spanking.” With that she left the room and shut the door behind her.
At that moment I experienced something I had never experienced before: dread at the thought of my father coming home. Up until my soap bubble escapade, I only felt joy and anticipation when I knew Dad was about to come home from work. I can still hear his key turning in the lock and feel myself jumping up an down in pure delight as he walked through the front door. He would proceed to sit down in the living room chair and bounce me up and down on his leg, our laughter feeding on each other. Dad coming home was the highlight of my day.
But not now. Noooooo. Not now. The thought of Dad coming home was dreadful. I was going to get spanked. Ugh!
After a few minutes, Mom came back into the room. “I’ve talked with your dad on the phone and we’ve decided that if you say you’re sorry and promise not to do that again, we’ll forgive you and you won’t get a spanking.”
Deal Lucille.
“I’m sorry,” I said as fast as I could. “I’ll never do that again.”
And I’m proud to say that I never have.
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9
This post first appeared in NewCommandment.org.
_______________________________________________________________
Learn how to form teams of men for every widow, single mom
and fatherless child in your church at NewCommandment.org.
_______________________________________________________________
