I remember the day clearly. The sun was shining, I had been roller skating, and it was a perfect summer day. Nothing could mar the happiness of this ten year old girl.
Nothing, that is, until the baseball whizzed past my head, striking the window in front of me, and shattering the window to hundreds of pieces. My sister ran in the house followed in hot pursuit by our younger brother, slamming the door behind them.
I stood there, doorknob in hand, when my father strode mightily over. Immediately he blamed me for the broken window and demanded to know why I did it.
Being a blubbering ten-year old didn't help. My dad sent me to my room until dinner. It was a quiet day for me as I sat there on my bed, lamenting over my misfortune at being blamed for something of which I had no part. This is probably the only incident in my life that I can claim innocence.
Later, I tried to explain what happened, but I was met with reproof. Finally, I gave up. I was mournful over the event because no one would believe me.
My parents do not remember this incident, but my sister and brother, blameless to this day, remember it as clearly as I do.
Thank God that He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight (Eph 1:4).