My little children, these things I write to you, so that you may not sin. And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. —1 John 2:1 (NKJV)
Firewood normally sold for over two hundred dollars per cord, but my neighbor was offering it at thirty dollars. “Come and get it,” he said. I’d use our newly acquired pickup truck to haul the firewood. The truck was old, but it was clean and dent-free—something my wife appreciated.
When I arrived at John’s wooded eight-acre spread, he directed me to back up a narrow path to the top of a hill. We filled the truck bed, and I made my first delivery without incident. When I returned for the second load, I backed up the hill again, only to hear a grinding noise against the driver’s door. I mistook it for a branch scraping the door, so I pressed on. The grinding got louder. I adjusted my direction and finished backing up the hill. When I exited the truck, my heart sank. I had smashed in the driver’s door and put a hefty scrape in the paint.
John arrived moments later to help with the final load. I hoped he didn’t notice the door. We chatted, but all I could think about was how to tell my wife. Maybe I could hide it and get it fixed. Or I could wait till the next day. Or...
Minutes later, I was home. I chose a direct approach. “Honey, I just put a big dent in the truck door.”
Her head snapped in my direction.“How bad?”
“Pretty bad.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Well, it is our utility vehicle, right?”
“That’s why I love you,” I said. We saved hundreds of dollars in heating costs, but my wife’s mercy
that day was the greatest treasure of all.
Thank You, Lord, for the grace that forgives my dumbest mistakes. —Bill Giovannetti
Digging Deeper: Ps 55:22; Prv 11:2; Phil 3:13
