Gone, Gone

Gone, Gone

It was a typical day at our younger son’s home, with Nicole dressing Evie, our five-year-old, for her ballet recital, the others clamoring for an after school snack, and Nora, the just-turned-two-years old, sorting through her brother and sisters’ backpacks.  It was the end of the school year, and teachers had returned unused supplies to their owners to bring home for summer fun.

With Nicole distracted by helping Evie, Nora had full-range to rummage through the crayons, papers, and – uh-oh – the markers.  When Nicole walked into the family room, much to her dismay, she found Nora’s prolific artwork, done in black marker, all over one of the cushions on the sofa.  After Nicole regained her composure, she reprimanded Nora, showing her the black marks and telling her no, no. 

Nora seemed appropriately chagrined by her own behavior, even showing the markings to her other grandmother who had come for a visit.  Everytime Nora walked past the sofa, she would pat the black lines on the gold upholstery, look at anyone who might be around or say to herself, “Nora, Nora,” as she shook her head, back and forth, as if she couldn’t believe what she had done.  Nicole, in all probability, said the same thing everytime she saw it, at least to herself, wondering if she would be able to remove the very prominent stains.

Because of the schedule, it was several days before Nicole could really begin working on the cushions, but, finally, after several hours, lots of elbow grease, and multiple concoctions of stain removers, Nicole was able to remove the streaks of black from the cushions, and the sofa was clean, once more.  As Nora toddled through, Nicole called her over to the sofa.

Wonderingly, Nora rubbed that little two-year-old hand over the cushion, saying in amazement, “Nora, Nora.  Gone, Gone.”  She was mystified that the black marks of her doing had been removed by the effort of her mom and a wonderful stain remover.  The marks of her shame were gone; no longer was she reminded by every pass by the sofa of her wrongdoing.  Now, she pats the cushion, smiling as she says, “Gone, gone. Clean, clean.”

As Nicole told me this little grandgirl story, I began to think of my Heavenly Father, Who, one day, washed me in the stain remover of the blood of His precious Son.  All of the ugly, black marks of my sin nature were washed away, and, I, too, can stand in amazement that all of the ugliness and stains of my life are now, “Gone, gone.  Clean, clean.” 

"Come now, let's settle this," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.”  (Isaiah 1:18)

Praise God that I don’t have to look at the stains everytime I pass them or Satan reminds me of them.  By the blood of Jesus, they are “Gone, gone.  Clean, clean.” – forgiveness is sweet!

© 2011 Gerry Sisk

(07/13/11)