The Forbidden Gumballs {and the fall of Tessa and Myles}

I walked in after being gone for a few hours with the almost birthday girl. She took our purchases to the dining room where we’ve been making things pretty to celebrate. She quickly returned with a half empty jar of pink gumballs. The very pink gumballs I told the four children we left behind NOT to eat.

Tessa? Myles? Where are you? I called out in my not so happy voice.

Two littles appeared sheepishly into the kitchen.

Did you eat the gumballs I told you not to eat?

Their eyes got really big. Tessa gave me some so I ate them, said the darling brown boy.

I turned to the cute blond who was desperately wanting to tell me the truth.

Tessa? What have you done?

Tears filled her eyes. My mind told me to do it! I couldn’t stop. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I just kept eating them.

Her genuine remorse got the best of her. With tears pouring, she crumbled into me ashamed of her disobedience.

I interrupted her apology because something in me knew this was an important moment. It resembled all too well the very first story of disobedience. The eating what was forbidden. The boy blaming the girl. The girl blaming temptation. Before we moved onto reconciliation, I knew there needed to be discipline, a telling of consequence. When it’s done as a response — rather than a reaction — there is fruit in this step, and it shouldn’t be skipped.

There’s a cost in sin. And the sinful human heart needs to feel the weight of sinful choices in order to recognize its need for forgiveness, for saving, for Jesus.

I sent both children upstairs to bed. I followed quickly with a heart full of forgiveness to tuck them in for the night.

Before I reached the top of the stairs I heard Tessa cry out, Mom, are you coming? Because I need to hug you.

Oh the heart’s need for reconciliation, for the mending of relationships.

I climbed into bed with her, her sobs still uncontrollable. She knew she had done wrong. She repeated again how her mind kept telling her to take the gumballs. And she did it even though she knew it was wrong.

Oh these bittersweet moments when your little child is aware of her sin.

I suddenly think of Eve, a woman held captive to a moment of crafty temptation. We’ve all been there. We know what it’s like to choose against the cry of our heart. When Eve takes the fruit, the moment shared to us is rather short in the story we read. We don’t have an inside look into her heart, into the battle that surely must have taken place in that life changing moment in our history of faith. Tessa was revealing to me a bit of Eve’s heart as she chose disobedience over trust.

My heart felt such deep compassion for her. I looked straight into her wet blue eyes, I forgive you, Tessa.

She melted into me.

And do you want to know a special secret? I will always and forever forgive you.

I taught her the word temptation. And how sometimes our eyes or our mind or our hands want to do something they shouldn’t. And that’s why we need to give our life to Jesus. So he can make our heart strong enough to say no in these moments. And that even in the times when our hearts are weak and we give into temptation, Jesus can deliver us from that sin through his forgiveness.

I could tell her five year old heart was understanding as much as it could.

Still crying, she boldly proclaimed that she never wanted to grow up. That she wanted to turn six and stay that way forever so she could always live with her family.

‘Cause that’s what forgiveness does. It makes you want to dwell there forever. Because everything else outside of this kind of love seems lonely and scary.