It was my day with the grandboys, and we were in the basement playing. Our game was pedaling low-riding Easy Rollers across the concrete floor and throwing dodge balls and plastic cones as fast as we could pelt them.

In the middle of the action–and for reasons that weren’t clear–Bain called Rafe a loser, and Rafe burst into tears. Rafe’s dependence on his big brother Bain’s good opinion is keen, and Bain, who’s mouth can fire-off foul words faster than any kid I’ve seen, was already firing conciliatory ones, no doubt concerned for what I might think.

But my concern was for Rafe. As the injured brother, I said he could say one hard word at Bain as payback. Pricked as Bain was after witnessing Rafe’s grief, he said Rafe could say mean things to him “for the rest of the entire day.”

But Rafe refused us both, “I don’t want to be mean!” he cried, his heart twisting his mouth as these passionate words burst out.

Bain’s eyes opened wide. “Rafe, you might’ve just given Bain the best payback possible,” I said. “You gave him mercy he didn’t deserve, and he looks a little embarrassed.”

“Yeah,” Bain nodded. “I didn’t expect that.”

It was a sweet moment, and we all got to witness it.

Not thirty minutes later, Rafe dissolved in tears again. This time it was over the dab of sherbet I mistakenly put on top of his vanilla. His immediate meltdown included a loud demand for a new bowl with a new scoop of ice cream.

While I’d felt sympathetic at first, his pitched fit nixed it. Still, he tried every trick he knew to command me, guilt me, manipulate me into it, but I held fast and didn’t budge, except to wipe off the sherbet, add more vanilla, and put his bowl back in the freezer.

“I WANT TO EAT ICE CREAM, MA’AM!!!” he hollered.

“I want you to have some, Rafe. And you get to choose: the scoop I just scooped or none. It’s up to you.”

“This is the worst Ma’am’s day ever! I’m sorry I came! I’ll never come back! And you’re the meanest, worst grandmother in the whole entire world!”

All the while, brothers Ezra and Bain were tossing out gentle reminders in the background, “Remember, Rafey, how we just went to Walmart and Ma’am bought us all toys?…Hey, what about getting a slushy at Sonic? Didn’t you love it?” But Rafe wasn’t listening, and his hissy continued.

When it was time to take the boys home, Rafe said he wouldn’t leave. The brothers and I walked to the car without comment, leaving him to sulk alone in the house. But by the time they were buckled in, here he came running.

When I leaned over to check his seatbelt, he mumbled softly, “Ma’am, I really wanted some ice cream at your house.”

“How about I go get your scoop from the freezer? I can put it in a to-go cup, and you can eat it on the way home.”

“Okaaaaaay,” he wailed as fresh tears fell. I wrapped his head in a hug and prayed, “God, help Rafey.”

Leaky and still a little sniffly, he ate his ice cream with gusto on the way home, while the brothers and I reminisced about our pumpkin party the weekend before. We laughed quoting silly lines from a movie we’d watched, and by the time we got to their house, even Rafey was chuckling.

“Are we good?” I asked as he climbed out.

“Yeah…I’m sorry I said all that stuff, Ma’am.”

“Thanks, bubba. I forgive you,” I said.

Mercy won, because mercy always wins, because God’s last word to us is always mercy.

“For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” La 3:30-33 NIV.

“The last word is, I will have mercy on them,” Je 33:25 MSG.