Good morning…

Yesterday I made a devastating technological mistake.

In the wee hours of the night, I woke feeling convicted to send a follow-up email to my Monday class, encouraging the small group to keep confidential a story of transition God is orchestrating in my daughter’s life. “It’s her story to share, not mine, not ours,” I reminded myself and this tight knit group. I felt grateful God had reminded me how important it is to share our stories with trusted people who will hold them close to heart, taking our truth into private prayer rather than public conversation. Then I pressed send.

In a nano second my glaring mistake stared back at me from my computer’s inbox. Instead of sending the email to a group of ten trusted women, I had accidentally posted my private message to an old online group of about six hundred and seventy people!

I was mortified. Completely appalled at my stupidity. Angry, angry, angry at my imperfect self. How could I be so careless? Here I was asking for confidentiality and I inadvertently broadcast tidbits of by daughter’s story to the world, doing exactly what I was asking close friends NOT to do.

There was no retrieving the email, no covering up my breach of a sacred boundary, no shoving this big blunder under the rug. So I sent a follow up “I am sorry” email to the large group explaining my mistake. I quickly texted my daughter explaining what had happened. She replied at 1:00 am, “I’m not sharing that story yet. I’ll tell you when it’s okay to share with others.” I texted back how I already had…how bad I felt…how incredibly sorry I was for breaking her trust. “I am so, so sorry,” my fingers hoped for forgiveness. I received no text back. Complete silence.

In the darkness of night, my mind tends to “horriblize,” so my thoughts were off to the races…how I had disrespected my daughter…how we might not ever recover from this…how other relationships in my life have quickly shifted from “trusted” to “betrayed” over stories like this. After my flagrant flaw had been exposed, I may have shut my eyes for a few hours, but I do not think I really slept.

As I climbed out of bed at the break of day, I thought of all those people who have had much more devastating forms of “horrible” happen, and they too had to force their bare feet onto wood floor, the morning after. I went to my computer to assess the public damage and was greeted by twelve emails before 7:00 am. The responses all said things like “I have been there, done that, and I hated it too.” “My child has been through a similar transition, and it turned out to be the best decision ever.” “The silver lining in your mistake is now I know how to pray for daughter more specifically.”

These messages kept rolling in, loving and supportive, personal and gracious. By 9:00 am, I had copying and pasting eighteen messages into an email for daughter, showing her the invisible web of support beneath me, beneath her, beneath us. I texted her again, “I am so, so sorry. Check out the email I just sent you.” I asked her to call or text when she woke so we could talk our way through my accidental offense.

Her text came in around 9:30 am, as I headed into work. “Mom, it’s no big deal. I hope people know I am not mad at you. I am starting to tell people today anyway.” Her words of forgiving kindness relieved my deepest fears. More emails of support flooded my email throughout the day, ten more to be exact before evening fell. Face to face conversations throughout the day buoyed me also, hugs and helpful words came, tangible signs of God’s loving grace.

God’s grace is expressed in various forms, but the forgiveness of my daughter in the face of my imperfection topped all of the expressions I experienced yesterday. Through her unbroken love, He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you [My lovingkindness and My mercy are more than enough—always available—regardless of the situation]; for [My] power is being perfected [and is completed and shows itself most effectively] in [your] weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, AMP).

Thanks be to God, to my gracious girl, and to all of the friends offering me comfort after my sleepless night.

…Sue…