“Hey mom, I made you some spaghetti.” Imagine with me, if you will, 16 year old Kari, sheepishly walking into my mom’s room with a look of shame and guilt. I can still vividly see her posture in my mind. Sitting up on a made bed, pillows propped behind her, feet crossed at the ankles and a face that I remember being indifferent, maybe even a little cold. Keep in mind, I didn’t grow up with Mommy Dearest – even though that does happen to be her name in my phone. Making dinner and inviting her to eat it with a side of silence and discomfort was not the norm for us. 

For most of my life I’ve had a really close relationship with my mom. She was and is my best friend, but at 16, I was like most other teenage girls in that I wanted to do my own thing, Mommy be damned. You see, there was this boy I liked and I was convinced that we were truly meant to be together. My mom was not of that mindset. For some reason she wasn’t a fan of me stealing her car and sneaking out with him, sans license. She didn’t think this teenage boy was a good fit for her daughter, and might even be a bad influence. Shocking, I know. So, after getting caught sneaking out, I was banned from texting, calling, or engaging with him on any kind of social media. I followed the rules, with the exception of skipping classes to go see him and spending our lunches together and waiting until the last possible moment to leave school so that I could just get one more word in. Well, because my mom was PTA President and a substitute at the school and also friends with all of my teachers, she very quickly found out about the secret affair. Once again, I was told not to speak to him. I nodded my head and agreed then immediately asked, “Can I go get food with my friends after school?” Pause. “Is he going to be there?” “No, just my friend and her boyfriend.” Lie. In trying to be a fair parent, she agreed to let me go. I was at the diner for a good 20 minutes before she walked in to see me sharing a booth with the aforementioned boy. 

I remember that day so clearly in my mind, it’s almost like my brain started recording the second I got into the car with her. My normally bubbly, loud mom was completely silent. No yelling. No demands. No arguments. I said I was sorry. No response. This was so far from normal, I thought I walked out of the diner and into the Twilight Zone. If I listened really hard I might have heard Rod Serling’s voice, “The place is here, the time is now, and the journey into the shadows that we’re about to watch could be our journey.” We get home and mom immediately goes up to her room. More silence for me, but now the terrifying reality of loneliness, too. Please keep in mind that this was not the first of the troubles my mom and I had. My lying was really bad that year and to be honest, that chapter of my life didn’t close until I was about 23. And at the point of the silent car ride home, I had so damaged the relationship it’s a wonder this didn’t happen before, or more often. 

The guilt sat heavy with me. I had no idea what to do, alone in the kitchen with no one there and not even my mom to talk to. So, I started making dinner. I made spaghetti that night. I remember making as much noise as possible, hoping she would come out at the very least to wonder what I’d been doing this whole time. All the while thinking, “I am never going to be able to have a close relationship with my mom ever again. Making this spaghetti is pointless because she’ll never forgive me for lying to her so many times. I broke this. I damaged this and I can’t fix it.” But, I made the spaghetti anyway and that night she ate it and went to bed. The next day, she spoke to me. We had an honest conversation about lying and expectations and why she felt she couldn’t speak to me. Not to punish me, but to protect me from her anger. We’ve had many conversations about that day, now. It’s a sticking point in both our minds of my teenage years. But I hadn’t thought much about the spaghetti until today. 

I run in the mornings, most of the time I get started before 6 am and finish around 6:30 or so, before most of the neighborhood gets up. Lately, I’ve been spending these runs having some much needed time with God. I talk, He listens, and occasionally I’ll give him the space to speak. During these times, I pray out loud, like I’m talking to someone who is walking right next to me, along with my giant hand movements, just to make sure all our neighbors think I’m a nutcase. This morning, I was in the middle of a great worship session. Hands are moving, smiles and tears, I’m extolling and praising, declaring the wonderful attributes of God and then a thought hit me. A thought which was so insidious, so masterfully crafted, it could only have come from one place. “This means absolutely nothing coming from you.” I stopped in my tracks. My countenance changed immediately and the next thought I had said, “You’re right.” I began to feel shame for worshiping God. 

I stopped running and I started walking with a posture of deep despair. The silence. The loneliness. It felt all too familiar, like I’m 16 again, standing in the kitchen, trying to figure out the directions for boiling pasta, while my brain replays my shame over and over and over again, but this time it wasn’t just from my 16th year. This time I had almost 24 years of mistakes playing in my head and the words “Not good enough” “Not humble enough” “Too self righteous” “Too angry” “Too broken” “Too hypocritical” flashing over every shameful memory my mind could conjure up. Then, spaghetti. 

“Almighty God” “Wonderful Counselor” “Closer than a brother” – I said these words out loud, to myself. Quietly, and with shame still coloring my vision, I began to extol Him again. I kept hearing, “You don’t deserve to even be in His presence” as it tried to cover my worship but I didn’t allow it. I kept praising. And then the memory of the spaghetti truly hit me and I thought, “It’s like I’m making God spaghetti.” 

My mom is a human who has experienced hurt and pain in her life. I hold no grudge against her silence when I had deeply disappointed her. But my mom is not God. I do things that would disappoint God daily. All of those things the enemy said about me not being good enough are true, I am a hypocritical, prideful, broken, angry woman who serves a Good God. A God who delights in me. DELIGHTS. DELIGHTS. DELIGHTS. DELIGHTS. Not only in me, but in my worship of Him – it’s what I was literally created for. 

When I got home from my run, I immediately jumped on my phone and typed in, “Verses about undeserving humans” – I know, not my best attempt but it got me to where I was going. I found Psalms 8, in which David says, “How majestic is your name!” He spends the first 4 verses telling God how wonderful he is – “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! … When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and stars, which you have set in place…” 

And then, David asks a question. “What is man, that you are mindful of him? And the son of man that you care for him?” Verse five explains: “For you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.” He delights in us.

Psalms 103 also paints a beautiful picture of His love, beginning again with praise and worship, the author says, “Bless the Lord, O my soul,  and all that is within me,  bless his holy name!” Then, as if the Psalms was written for my spaghetti story, he describes the loving Father we have – 

The Lord is merciful and gracious,

    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. 

He will not always chide,

    nor will he keep his anger forever.

He does not deal with us according to our sins,

    nor repay us according to our iniquities.

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

    so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;

as far as the east is from the west,

    so far does he remove our transgressions from us.

As a father shows compassion to his children,

    so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

For He knows our frame, He remembers that we are dust.

And, yet. Back to Psalms 8. “Yet you made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.” 

I was so encouraged by the multitude of thoughts I had this morning, I felt I had to put them into words and tell everyone that my God is so good. He is worthy and deserving of all praise. And you do belong in His presence. The enemy will seek to destroy your confidence in Jesus but we are more than conquerors in Christ and that battle has already been won. Make the spaghetti. Ask for forgiveness and be brought into his wonderful presence.