The Taste of Forgiveness

The day I called John Reynold's mom a bucket of snot, I never imagined that I would get a batch of her famous double chocolate brownies baked just for me. The day started out like any other school day. My alarm woke me from a dream about warm, endless summer days free from the rigors of schoolwork and especially from the torture of sitting on the bus next to my arch-enemy, John Reynold. I didn't want to sit next to him, but the bus driver had a strange sense of humor; a year earlier John had been my Kindergarten sweetheart. I had wised up since then, turning my sights on the more mature third and fourth graders who had the honor of sitting in the back of the bus. Mr. Kramer, the bus driver, thought it was funny that the boy I used to chase around at recess was now the boy I loved as much as I loved the wart on my big toe. So he put us together on the seating chart.

When I climbed up the steps of the bus on that fateful day, I acknowledged Mr. Kramer's greeting with half a smile and quickly took my seat next to John. He was busy digging for gold in his nose and didn't seem to notice that I had sat down. That didn't bother me any. I pulled out a book and tried to concentrate on the adventures of Ramona and Beatrice. I was engrossed in the story when suddenly the book was ripped from my hands. "Hey!" I exclaimed, firing a look at John that could have burned a hole in his face.

"Whacha readin', Kaylee?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Are you reading about how to make booger sandwiches?" He snickered as though it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Leave me alone, John." I said angrily, taking the book back and stuffing it in my backpack.

John looked out the window and I thought I was safe. "Do know what I saw your mom doing the other day?" he asked several minutes later.

"No, what?" I asked suspiciously.

"I saw her putting slime in your lunch box. You eat slime." He grinned wickedly and then grabbed the string from the hood of my jacket and pulled it hard enough to make it come out almost all the way.

"John, stop that!" I turned away and tried to ignore his mocking voice chanting, "Kaylee eats slime." I knew I needed to ignore him.

"You know what else? Your mom is a slime hose."

That did it. Something inside me snapped. "You... you.... Your mom is a bucket of snot!" I shouted with all the rage I could muster.

His mocking stopped immediately and he grabbed my hood and squashed my face into the bus window. "Stop it! You can't say that about my mom!"

"Oh yes I can!" I shouted, struggling against him.

The bus came to a stop and Mr. Kramer unbuckled his seatbelt, walked to where John had me pinned against the side of the bus and picked John up. He plopped him down unceremoniously in the seat across the aisle from me. "Stay there or you'll be going to the principal's office when we get to class." He went back to the driver's seat and proceeded on with the rest of the bus route.

The rest of the day was uneventful - just another day in the classroom. In fact, by evening I had forgotten all about the frustrating events of the morning. Even when my mom asked about how the day went, I didn't mention John's insults.

Then next day, John was not on the bus and that meant either he was sick or his mom was the room-mother for the day. When I arrived in the classroom at the end of the hall, there were John and Mrs. Reynold chatting with the teacher. I hung up my jacket and book bag and took my seat. Everything seemed normal until reading time. I was trying to read a word and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it meant. So I raised my hand. Mrs. Reynold saw me. I know she did. But she didn't come. Strange. I normally enjoyed the favor of all my teachers and teacher's aides because of my extremely wonderful behavior and stellar grades. I started to wave my hand impatiently when I saw her look my way again. She finally walked briskly over to my desk.

"What do you want, Kaylee?" she asked tersely.

Taken aback by her tone of voice, I nearly forgot which word I was having trouble figuring out. "I don't know what 'perishable' means." I said, pointing to the word.

"It means you can DIE," she said through squinty eyes, and then she spun around and marched to another child with his hand raised.

What was wrong with her today? And why? Maybe she was just having a bad day. I glanced over at John who was looking at me with an evil grin. "John Reynold!" I muttered under my breath. What was he up to? How had he turned his normally sweet mom into such a mean lady? Suddenly, like an echo my insulting words came back to me: "Your mom is a bucket of snot!" Surely he hadn't told his mom I had said that. I looked over at Mrs. Reynold again. She was talking as sweet as cotton candy to a boy she normally didn't like. So it wasn't just a bad day. I thought about the insult I had shouted so flippantly at John. If he told her that I called her that, it must have hurt her feelings. But he had insulted my mom first and I really didn't mean that SHE was a bucket of snot. Really, I meant that HE was a bucket of snot - not that I should have said it anyway. Oh dear, I thought, what should I do now?

Ask for forgiveness.

I looked around. Who had said that? I couldn't ask for forgiveness! Mrs. Reynold probably hated me!

Aren't we supposed to confess our sins?

That voice sounded a lot like my Sunday School teacher.

Tell them you're sorry.

THEM? The voice was getting annoying.

"But God is faithful and fair. If we admit that we have sinned, he will forgive us our sins. He will forgive every wrong thing we have done. He will make us pure." That's found in 1 John 1:9, remember?

My heart sank. I did remember. That was our verse from last week in church. I looked over at Mrs. Reynold. She glanced up at me at the same time. Her eyes flashed with anger and guilt washed over me.

Wouldn't it be nice to feel pure?

I looked over at John who was busy digging around in his nose again. I raised my hand. This time Mrs. Reynold came over right away. "I need to tell you something," I said before she could say anything to me. "Can we go out in the hall?"

She looked surprised but nodded and followed me as I went through the door. "I don't know if John told you that I called you a mean name, Mrs. Reynold. But I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. He called my mom something mean first and I was angry with him so I called you something too. But I shouldn't have and I'm sorry and I didn't mean it." I felt tears coming to my eyes and tried to blink them away. I looked down at my feet and waited for her response. When she didn't say anything for a minute, I looked tentatively up at her.

"Oh, Kaylee, I'm sorry too! No matter what you said, I shouldn't have been mean to you!" She opened her arms for a hug and I gladly gave her one.

"You're a nice lady, Mrs. Reynold. You never deserve to be called anything mean. Will you forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me, sweetheart."

"Oh yes, I do!" We hugged again and then returned to the classroom. I sat at my desk and wrote a note to John telling him I was sorry for being mean to him, too. I asked Mrs. Reynold if she would deliver it to him.

"I certainly will, Kaylee. And if he ever calls you or your mom anything again, you let me know." She walked over to John's desk and gave him my note, then she whispered something in his ear that made his face turn bright red. He looked over at me sheepishly and then gave me a half-hearted grin. I smiled at him and then at his mom who winked at me.

The next time she came in to be a room-mother, she gave me a brown paper bag that smelled like heaven itself. "Don't eat these all at once, ok? And you share them with your brother and sister." I peeked in the bag and saw the most wonderful sight - a gooey batch of double chocolate brownies. My mouth watered as I picked one up and took a bite. Oh my, being forgiven tasted wonderful!