There is one boy in our family that says he hates me. A lot. A whole lot.
There is another boy in our family that says he loves me. All. The. Time.
But who do I listen to? Who do I seem to hear more? Which words do my emotions tend to fall upon?
Boy number one. I don’t know why. He’s four. He has only known me a year. He doesn’t fully trust me yet. But, it just seems that my ears and heart get stuck on hearing the things that tear me down.
I am by no means saying “boy number two” is Jesus and “boy number one” … well, isn’t Jesus. But the vast difference of their words sure do remind me of the vast difference of Holy Words and words of the world.
I am saying … its unfortunate. Unfortunate that I don’t let the words of love saturate my heart. I don’t know how I can’t … when those arms go around me and Boy number two says, “Mom, I sure love you.” I melt. Completely. It fills my heart so fast. And I love it. But, I forget to hang my heart on those words. I know they are true every hour of the day. But I don’t go to those words when the words of hate are spoken.
It’s the same with Jesus and me. I don’t hang on the words that Jesus whispers to me as He puts His arm around my shoulder.
“I love you”.
“You are my treasure”.
“You have some amazing challenges and joys ahead …
and you will do great”.
“I am with you”.
I know that His words are true every hour of the day. I don’t know why I don’t go to those words when the false ones are spoken.
It will take a conscience effort … and the effort will need to be HUGE to let the life giving words soak in to our hearts. It stinks that those whispers of hate seem to be louder. I wish there was a volume control to my heart. I would push mute so fast on the words that don’t come from my Sweet Savior. But mute would allow it to be easy and require zero work. It wouldn’t be a conscience effort. And I need to make a very conscience effort to listen to Jesus each and every day. When we labor and strive for something, we appreciate it and value it so much more. And oh how I want to value His precious words to me.
I watched a young mom holding her four year old son as she left the dentist office. She had him all bundled up in a blanket, tight in her arms and very much holding him in her heart. I couldn’t stop looking at her as she looked just like our youngest boys’ mom. It stopped me in my tracks.
I think about their mom daily … with a wide variety of emotions. A small part of me feels, “why didn’t you fight for them?” But the majority of my heart wonders “is she doing okay?”.
After seeing this particular mom, my heart broke as all I could think was, “their mom should be holding her babies … not me.”
But that isn’t God’s Plan. These two boys have been grafted into our lives to love, care for and walk through life with. They are relationships that we didn’t have two years ago. But we do now. And we plan to hold them tight.
There are lots of relationships in each of our lives that just don’t make sense, that might not fit, that are grafted in to our lives forever … and we need to hold them like a mama holds her son. Tight.
God goes to great lengths to cross our paths, merge our lives and put relationships together. He has a reason, a purpose, a plan. He didn’t just throw them together … so let’s not just throw them away. Treasure the relationships we have … no matter how they came about.
Goodbye Boogie Man
There has been a miracle in our home. I am not lying. At all.
Every single night at bed time our little snow globe is shaken up big time.
It causes me to hate bed time. I hate the battle it holds. I hate the impatience I have. I hate the irrational tailspin our four year old goes through. I hate whatever happened to him that made him hate bedtime (because SURELY it’s not my stinky attitude … because it most certainly could be!).
The usual tornado was spinning through the boys bedroom and all of our hearts a few nights ago. I had to leave the room as I do often. After a few deep breaths, I went back in to find our youngest in his bed … crying. Not yelling, not throwing things, not biting … but crying. This wasn’t normal.
I crawled into bed with him and asked what was making him sad. “I just don’t want to have my dreams tonight.” My heart was pounding and stopped still all at once. He had horrific nightmares in the first few months but had been sleeping through the night for a year now. I asked him to explain his dreams to me and he did. I wish they were dreams, but they are nightmares. Horrible things waiting for him as he laid down to bed. No wonder he fought it so very bad each night. My yelling and impatience was better than what waited for him when his eyes closed.
He is not our verbal processor … we have seen some amazing things through play therapy but words are not how he usually expresses things. But this night, this moment, he spoke very clearly as to what he was experiencing and seeing each night. And we took all of it and spoke outloud and very clearly to God about it.
And Satan ran.
That dirty rat of a joy stealer can’t stand it when we reveal his little secrets by saying them outloud. He is a bully. And when we finally stop cowering in fear and say outloud, “don’t do that”. He runs.
And it’s awesome!
We are all in a little shock. Bedtimes have been sweet. There have been two fits in four days. Thank yous and yes sirs have been ABUNDANT. Granted, it’s only been four days. But we will take it. We will take it and run and jump and leap with joy … the joy that Satan will not steal.