I sat on the seat of the Green Machine. It’s like a big kid’s big wheel. He was crying and I couldn’t console him. He needed to get it all out. As I listened, I reverted back to ten year old me remembering the hurts wanting to take it all from him. Only I couldn’t. That wasn’t my job.
I kept praying in my head desperately searching for the right thing to say. He kept crying. When he finally took a breath, I had a million things to say but couldn’t speak. I wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap or move him to a farm to take him away from it all. Does anyone have either of those? I am in the market. But that’s not my job.
When I told him I couldn’t take this from him even though I wanted to, he asked me why. Why couldn’t the one he looks to for safety, protection, comfort, and security release him of the burdens he carried? My only answer was, “That isn’t my job.”
“Train a child in the way he should go and he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6
I don’t know how to do this parenting thing. I am convinced it gets harder as they get older. I thought raising tiny humans was overwhelming, but now I have these big kids facing big problems and guiding them in the right direction is terrifying. And then I have to incorporate this God component with-out being too Jesus-freakish and that can make me want to crawl in a hole and come back out after they have all survived junior high and high school. But, that’s not my job either.
So, there I say on that tiny seat that is meant for my six year old watching the tears fall faster than he can wipe them away listening to his angst. The only thing I had to offer was love, grace, and a soft place to land. The only thing I could tell him was that life is hard and does suck at times, but we have a good good Father. That, when you find your confidence in Him and Him alone, others have control over our lives less and less. Something I learned recently myself.
My job isn’t to fix. My job isn’t to fight for him. My job isn’t to ignore or sweep under the rug. My job is to sit on tiny bicycles freezing because the wind is howling listening to him cry. He doesn’t always need me to speak. He just needs me to be: to be near, to be safe, to be a soft space to go when life gets ever so hard.
Watching my kid struggle and not being able to fix it reminded me that I also need to trust that good good Father. I need to remember that He is my soft place to land. He is my safety. He wants to be near.
This whole parenting gig is not for the faint of heart. It is also not meant for us to do alone or have all the answers. It’s a place of deep humility and so SO much grace. I haven’t got all this stuff figured out. And when I think I do, another kid will come along with a completely different reaction to the exact same problem and I start all over again.
Be near. And remember, He’s a good good Father. We are not alone.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
I kept praying in my head desperately searching for the right thing to say. He kept crying. When he finally took a breath, I had a million things to say but couldn’t speak. I wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap or move him to a farm to take him away from it all. Does anyone have either of those? I am in the market. But that’s not my job.
When I told him I couldn’t take this from him even though I wanted to, he asked me why. Why couldn’t the one he looks to for safety, protection, comfort, and security release him of the burdens he carried? My only answer was, “That isn’t my job.”
“Train a child in the way he should go and he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6
I don’t know how to do this parenting thing. I am convinced it gets harder as they get older. I thought raising tiny humans was overwhelming, but now I have these big kids facing big problems and guiding them in the right direction is terrifying. And then I have to incorporate this God component with-out being too Jesus-freakish and that can make me want to crawl in a hole and come back out after they have all survived junior high and high school. But, that’s not my job either.
So, there I say on that tiny seat that is meant for my six year old watching the tears fall faster than he can wipe them away listening to his angst. The only thing I had to offer was love, grace, and a soft place to land. The only thing I could tell him was that life is hard and does suck at times, but we have a good good Father. That, when you find your confidence in Him and Him alone, others have control over our lives less and less. Something I learned recently myself.
My job isn’t to fix. My job isn’t to fight for him. My job isn’t to ignore or sweep under the rug. My job is to sit on tiny bicycles freezing because the wind is howling listening to him cry. He doesn’t always need me to speak. He just needs me to be: to be near, to be safe, to be a soft space to go when life gets ever so hard.
Watching my kid struggle and not being able to fix it reminded me that I also need to trust that good good Father. I need to remember that He is my soft place to land. He is my safety. He wants to be near.
This whole parenting gig is not for the faint of heart. It is also not meant for us to do alone or have all the answers. It’s a place of deep humility and so SO much grace. I haven’t got all this stuff figured out. And when I think I do, another kid will come along with a completely different reaction to the exact same problem and I start all over again.
Be near. And remember, He’s a good good Father. We are not alone.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
Comments