My mom makes the best peanut butter cookies. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, she’ll make them right after dinner, fresh from the oven.

On one particular night, after my mom had worked eight hours, came home, cooked dinner, and washed the dishes, I tentatively snuck into the kitchen and asked her to make peanut butter cookies. She sighed tiredly, but agreed to do it.

As she worked, I sat in the living room doing homework. Suddenly remembering something I wanted to tell her, I excitedly marched into the kitchen. As she came closer to hear what I was saying I accidentally threw my arms out and hit the bottom of the mixing bowl, sending it flying. We watched in horror as it fell face-first onto the floor.

Guilt and shame washed over me as I apologized profusely.

Mom said it was ok, but the guilt wouldn’t go away. After a few minutes, my mom came and gave me a big hug. I sobbed into her arms and she told me she forgave me.

I like to think that’s how God acts when we come to Him crying for forgiveness. He holds us in His arms and tells us that He forgives us as Jesus’ blood that was shed on the cross for us washes over us and makes us clean.