Our day started very early today. Much before my patience was awake and my mind was a little late to the party as well.
3:30am I’m in bed when a strange thumping startles me awake. I follow the rhythm to my son’s room and sure enough there he is at the door; book, lambie pillow (a white pillow hijacked from my bed) and bright eyes in tow ready to head downstairs. I assure him that 3:30am is not the time for any one in this home to be awake and after some snuggles and a cup of warm milk he reluctantly settles back in. I go back to my room and toss and turn for awhile before flipping through my phone. Terrible habit. Yes, I know, but a book is not an option in the early morning hours when I am convincing a certain child it is still time to sleep. The light from a lamp is seen as an invitation to party and while I may be unable to sleep at this time, I am in no mood for celebration. Side note: husband of mine, you are welcome to take this as another hint for a book light for Christmas *ahem* Finally the sounds cease and I know the child is sleeping again and I am able to creep down the stairs to my morning coffee and devotions. A painfully early start to the day is not my favorite but taking advantage of those quiet morning hours with the Lord brings so much peace. Between my Bible and a lovely new book on Motherhood I read for a couple hours straight before the children awake. This book is hitting all the right notes because I am tired of parenting books that give advice at the moment. Not against them, by any means, but taking a necessary break. This book is just raw, honest, helpful encouragement that calms a heart prone to worry. 6am, a normal morning time in our home, and my other child awakens. We snuggle and read and I feed her applesauce because it is the first word she greets me with. Somewhere in the midst of this snuggling and roaming she becomes offended. She seems to believe I am stealing her baby doll but, really, I’m offering a steady hand because she is about to drop it. I chuckle at this and then am hit with the realization that this is exactly how I have interacted with so many things in motherhood. Flash back to the first week with my son. My first born who was a challenging baby. I don’t want to stop the description there because he was and is so many more wonderful things but an easy, sleepy baby was not one of them. I remember trying and trying to calm him down feeling like nothing was working and wondering how I was going to keep up with this and my sweet mother in law comes to check on us and see if she can help. Part of me wants help but the other is terrified that she will be able to calm him and I will feel that much more inadequate and I refuse the help, as politely as possible in my sleep deprived state. I’m mulling over this recollection and my tendency to want to do all the things myself when my son comes down the stairs to join us. He looks at me, looks at his sister and grabs a toy off the couch before heading back up to his room, telling me he just needs to be alone for awhile. He tells me this in a big kid voice, calm and clear, hopeful and reflective. He knows what his body needs and that he is not ready for people yet. I hear you my child, I hear you. I am blown away. Perhaps this is not unusual in your home but there have been many tears and prayers, corrections and explanations to encourage self regulation with my son who feels everything so big. Not that he is not allowed to feel with us but he seems to process better if he takes time on his own first. I’m so thankful he is figuring this out for himself and taking steps towards a calmer heart and more helpful discussions. At this point a still voice in my head reminds me of the baby doll again and how much I’m always trying to pick up. These worries that I carry on my shoulders and forget to share with anyone, forget to share with God frequently and how they all have a habit of tumbling out in a frantic way because I haven’t given them to the one who holds my soul. He reminds me that He has these worries and the prayers have not fallen on deaf ears, that He is with me in this fight and loves my courageous goofball even more than I do. He has big plans for those big emotions and He wants to help. I breathe in, loosen the reins and enjoy the day. For all it is; early start, cheery applesauce smiles, new skills learned, crazy playtime, blissful naptime and cleaning frenzies. This gift of motherhood is beautiful and I am not alone.
Fireweed Faith 