Great Expectations

My boy cuddles close, his softly curled head pressed sweaty-cheeked and dirt-smudged into mine. I laugh as he climbs into my lap; hit at once with a tinge of sadness.  Missing the chubby rolls and bright blue eyes that used to gaze at me with complete joy and adoration as a baby, all innocent and only needing the world of momma’s sustenance, momma’s love, momma’s laugh.

It’s quickly followed by a rush of joy at the almost 7 year old boy he’s becoming, all gangly awkward legs and arms scrunched next to me and half on top of me…he’s overflowing my lap and my love’s overflowing my heart.

Those same bright blue eyes look up at me, complete joy and adoration still there.  But today I notice his gaze is tinged with a bit of growing up knowledge that has started to etch harsher lines in his face and form his opinions.  My boy is learning more and more about this fallen world and the glorious heaven beyond.

It’s our “alone” time where we just talk, about anything and everything. I wait in anticipation for his eager questions, the laughter that ensues, the teaching that happens.

He looks at me solemnly, and says

“Momma, are you and daddy getting a divorce?”

My heart drops, my stomach roils; and instantly ghostly echoes of a time four years past starts to whisper in my mind.  A time where grief and betrayal and the near-destruction of our marriage left my husband and I feeling justified in the acid-filled words we flung at each other in front of our children for months.  As my hands go numb and my face starts to flush, I feel the dreaded slow drip of Satan’s whispery guilt-ridden accusations start to cascade…

“See, see what you’ve done to your child?

You’ve damaged him for the rest of his life

It’s your fault

He’ll never be secure in love

In his marriage

With his kids

With his life

With his faith

Your great expectations are nothing but a pile of dust flying away in the winds of your mistakes”

I realize in the middle of the rant in my head that I’ve let it go too far, let Satan take me back to a place of condemnation. I can’t even speak out loud the prayer of my heart as I remember the blessing of God’s mercy and grace and sweet, sweet forgiveness

{Precious Father, thank you so, please give me the words I need}

as I take a deep breath and ask him where he heard that and he tells me he heard me say it on the phone the day before.

A quick sigh of relief as I realize what he heard was me encouraging another hurting woman, sharing the testimony of the Satan-stained destruction and the God-filled restoration of my marriage.

The words start to come, as I tell him how Satan crept into momma and daddy’s heart

“Like the slippery snake Momma?”

“Yes, sweetie, like the slippery snake.”

and how we were sinners and made a lot of really terrible mistakes and thought we could solve it by getting a divorce.

“You were going to LEAVE each other momma? And never be together again to love us and laugh together and play and grow old?”

“Yes, sweetie, we were.”

And then I start to tell him how God stepped in when we were finally broken and opened our eyes to our need for Him and Jesus. I tell him about our salvation and our baptisms and our wedding vow renewal. I tell him how God now uses momma and daddy’s story to help others who are hurting in their marriages. And then we pray together, hands interwoven and whispered voices praising God.

I look down at my son, and know that I am giving him the greatest gift I can.  The gift of honesty with past mistakes, the gift of taking responsibility for sin, the gift of showing how God is the only answer, and the gift of setting the stage for great expectations in his life, following Christ, no matter what.

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