A few boo-boos

Yesterday we decided to try to burn some time out of the house. As my morning sickness dissipates, my desire to return to working out improves. So we went to the Fitness Center. They have a glassed area so they kids can play while I attempt to stay in shape.

After my work-out, I took the kids into a racquetball court with a couple of the big work-out balls. And moments later, as we ran around chasing each other and the balls, I watched as little Isaac, not understanding the concept of floor-to-ceiling glass, ran smack into it, at full speed.

Man is crying LOUD in a racquetball court.

As a parent, you recognize that your kids are seeing everything with new eyes. So many experiences are brand new. But I feel so badly when I don't recognize the newness ahead of time. For me, the thought of running into glass is pretty foreign. The last time I did it was when I was seven years old at the Gritters house. It stuck with me. I've never done it again. Racquetball courts have glass. I know this. But my son does not. He learned a lesson. And I learned a lesson. It is my job to recognize dangers ahead of time and present them to him ahead of time. Then, if he still runs into the glass, I've done what I can do, and the fault becomes his own.

Parenting is so ... deep. And it has taught me so much about God. I have realized now, how much of the big picture God does see. As I am washing one of my boys' faces and they are screaming about how much they don't like it, I KNOW I know better. I know that having a dirty face is not advisable. I know that making them go to bed is for the best interest despite their crying otherwise. I know that not letting Isaac eat ice cream to his heart's content is best for him. He doesn't. He'd eat it all day every day if I let him. But I'm his Mommy. John's his Daddy. It's our job to say "no" even when it hurts us to watch them sad.

As we begin to prepare Elijah to not sleep with a pacifier until he is thirty, we have moved into the last phase of our plan. The first plan was to curb all out-of-bed uses of the pacifier. That meant he could not have it in the car. Then we decided he shouldn't have it anywhere but HIS bed. That meant this morning, as he came to lay down with us each morning as both the boys do when they wake up, that he had to leave his pacifier in HIS bed instead of taking it into ours.

It crushed him. He wouldn't even leave his bed for a number of minutes as he weighed the options. You could see his mind working. He thought it might be better just to stay in his bed ALL DAY so that he could keep that pacifier. Poor little guy.

We thought about giving in. We thought about changing our mind. But the big picture was more important that the small moment of his sobbing.

God knows best too. As I begged and cried and pleaded for a child, He could see the whole thing. He could see the big picture. He could say, "Wendi, I know this is for your best right now. Later, it will all be clear." But at the time, all I could think was that this "face washing" thing really stunk!

If you are in the throngs of disappointment right now, try to remember that God is with you. You may not feel Him but he is watching. He does love you. And somehow, somewhere, this disappointment will begin to make itself clear. It may take five days. It may take, as it did with us, five years. I met a woman who prayed for her husband's salvation for five DECADES. Can we "see the big picture" for that long?!

Praying for all of you this morning as you grieve.