"Mom, can this be a day of mercy?" asks my now-five-year-old daughter nearly every night.
This started a few months ago when, one night after tucking them all in, I turned to discover a veritable wasteland of strewn toys through the house. Brilliantly I concluded that if they had so many toys they couldn't keep them put away, then they had too many toys. But instead of ranting, kicking toys, spitefully cleaning them up myself (options I resort to on stormier days), I calmly sat the kids down the next day and explained. I did not want to have to look at their toys after they went to bed. I did not want to step on assorted matchbox cars and fairy wands as I traversed the three steps between the kitchen sink and the dishwasher. I said, in essence, that they would be cleaning up their stuff or it would be put in lockdown for an unspecified amount of time.
Secretly, I was wondering if they would even miss their stuff. To my chagrin, I captured a rather large garbage bag of items in the first week or two that went totally unnoticed. But my meticulous daughter soon realized there were some valuable items she didn't want confiscated. Thus the terror entered her heart.
Soon, bedtime would set in and panic would ensue. The first time it happened I assured her that though, by the new rules of the house, I should indeed take her beloved toys, I would grant her mercy for that night.
As days and weeks passed into months, she became much better about keeping her things picked up. Sometimes when realization dawned just before bedtime, a frenzy of cleaning would ensue. I particularly enjoy hearing her marshaling her younger brother into being her deft accomplice in putting the toys away. Only occasionally have there been lapses when toys are left out and confiscated (usually unnoticed on her part). Recently she lost something she wanted back right away and I had her parole the item by doing an extra chore. (She found this chore so fun that she begged to be allowed to do it again.)
So on a practical level overall, success. Far fewer toys on the rug at the end of the day. But on a much larger concept level, I have introduced the essence of mercy to my daughter. That what we deserve we do not receive. That toys owing forfeit are allowed to lay behind the couch in her make-believe doll home and not go into the closet of darkness. Because of mercy.
And so, the frequently asked question: "Mom, can this be a day of mercy?"
And nearly always comes my reply, "Yes, it can. Today can be a day of mercy."
Why can I extend mercy so freely? Because I have received the same, on an infinitely greater scale, from my Heavenly Father.
What a privilege, truly, to teach such a truth to our children. And, in turn, to be reminded by a simple illustration of the unfathomable mercy extended to us every day.
