What is my objective?

This may seem elementary; most everything does after the "light bulb" moment.

But THIS, my friends, seems too easy-- like everyone probably already knows about this incredible mind shift except for me.

So, your welcome, for the reminder-- and maybe the giggle at my expense.

It's late. Bedtime has taken much longer than I expected once again. Every day, I say that we will start bedtime a half hour earlier to make room for the silliness, stalling and inevitable poop that needs to happen as soon as she is covered up. It never happens. We always start too late and so there I am, standing there, stressed, irritated, TIRED.

 I feel like Dr. Leo Martin vs. Bob Wiley. 

Holy smokes. YES. That's exactly how I feel at the end of the day.

 It's just too much. And I hate it. I despise myself in that moment. I have these out of body experiences where I hear what I am saying and see the tension in me and I feel so sad (and pretty pathetic too).

I just want to shake myself!

But in that gross, disgusting moment, when I was watching myself, THAT'S when it hit me. 

Thanks to my Bachelors of Fine Arts... (finally)

 I was watching the scene and I felt the tug. The gentle question -- as my teachers in school asked me so often: 

What's your objective?

BED. Bed is my objective. Cover her up-- no wait, give her a sip of water so that she doesn't get uncovered to get a sip of water. Give her a sip of water, cover her up, move her hair our of her face, give her a kiss and GET THE F OUT! That's my objective! 

Right then, I became present. She was laying down now. She was asking me if I could pray for her-- she was asking me to tell her about what we would do the next day and wanting to help make a plan for the morning. She just wanted to play-- and interact and talk-- and me? 

Moments before, I could hardly keep my head from exploding. 

Instead of standing over her, holding her blanket, forcing myself to breathe deeply, I knelt down and  I asked myself again: What's my objective?  

Connect. My objective has to be to connect. 

My posture seemed to relax and in turn, so did hers. My voice became soothing instead of sharp and threatening-- she became quieter. We discussed some concerns of the night-- feeling hot/cold, needing a bandaid etc. and we smiled about what tomorrow would bring.

I still wanted her in bed (desperately) but when I focused on engaging her, my crazy little beauty, I didn't feel pathetic anymore-- or sad. I felt strong and capable of being the mom I know I can be. 

When I stop with my external objectives and put the focus on the relationships around me-- the atmosphere actually changes.

Harmony happens. Peace. Unforced rhythms of grace.

And bedtime becomes a heck of a lot easier! 

Dang right, you must get that from your mother! Part two.

Finally!! A minute to sit and get the second part of this enormous lesson out of my head.

It's becoming more and more clear to me that we become parents not only to, and maybe I will even dare to say, NOT to parent new humans, but to explore and learn and be guided in a whole new side of ourselves that God put in us for HIS purposes.

It (being life, everything in life) is always about our relationship with him. Always. It never isn't.

And yes, of course, to achieve all of the goodness God has on this parenting journey, we must in fact be PARENTS, but ultimately we are ALL His children. He has us. He has them.

We are just standing in--

and in my little opinion, it's not because he needs us to. It's because we need us to.

Mind. Blown.

I think about my dear Simon boy a lot. I love him. I take care of him. I can tell you his schedule, I can sort of tell you his likes, I can definitely tell you his dislikes-- and I can tell you most of this in the context of Judah-- his big sister. Naturally, he is the stereotypical second child. I have in fact, not only forgotten his name, but I have forgotten he exists.

For instance, Simon likes when Judah jumps up and down. Simon doesn't like Judah to take toys from him. Meal times are mostly about screaming for food because I am not only focused on feeding him but also feeding his sister. These said screaming sessions, lead me to believe that he really likes to eat... so forth and so on. I learn about him, mostly because of his interactions with his big sister.

and this isn't bad, it is what it is.

 He was born into a family with a sister who likes to manage, likes to talk, a lot, likes to oversee and organize-- He will be the person he was destined to be largely because of the circumstances he was born into. Hence why many first borns, second borns etc. are predictable in many ways.

 Anyway, Simon was in his 10th month of life and really didn't have any words at all.

 NOW before anyone starts thinking that I am expecting too much, or thinking that I think he should be more like his sister-- that's not what this is about. I am the SPOKESPERSON for kids developing on their own timelines-- and not forcing anything on them.
I wasn't concerned about his speech or development.

I was concerned for my sanity.

I couldn't take the screaming and yelling for what he needed (specifically at meal times) anymore. My head was about to explode.

I remember the day. Just looking up to the heavens. Oh dear LORD, why won't this kid just TALK?!

And I remember so clearly the answer.

"You talk about him. You talk around him. How often do you talk to him?"

GULP.

That was it. I sat down. I looked at him. "Simon, it seems like you need something. Can I get you some more?"

This seems elementary. I know. It is!

But when you have 8,576,000 things to do and think about at one time and then a preschooler QUESTIONING your every move--- you don't take much time to talk to the screamer! You hear the scream and you do whatever has to be done to MAKE IT STOP.

Two days later he was asking for more. Praise you sweet Jesus. Seriously.

This got me thinking. God wanted me to focus on Simon. To build an intentional connection with him- an intentional relationship.

Through this seemingly small change, Simon was able to move into his full potential at the moment.

Relationship matters.

What would happen if we focused our energy for just one day, even, on being super intentional in our love and communication with the people around us? Would they, in turn, move into their full potential? Would we all feel more alive?

What would happen if we stopped talking about God-- but made a significant effort to speak with him. What would happen if we actually made our relationship with Jesus, a relationship that we pursued with focus, discipline and intention?

I bet there would be a change. I bet we would hear him. I bet prayers wouldn't seem so distant. We would know Him, and I bet His realness to us-- would be the light that we need to shine in darkness.

I hope that I can continue to pursue intentional relationships in my life. I hope my children see that,
and I hope that I hear one day I hear someone say to them, "You must get that from your mother!"

There's enough grace to go around

There's really no way around it: parenting is tough stuff.

If we didn't have enough going on already, between work, maintaining relationships with our friends and family, caring for a home which includes, quite possibly, a pet of some sort and of course, pursuing a romantic relationship, then life tacks on a baby.

A baby, is a baby. Impossible not to love and superior in our hierarchy system to many of these other responsibilities. The problem is, just because a baby appears doesn't mean the other things disappear. So we find ourselves having to live life as it were, but now, as a mom or dad.

Somehow by the grace of God we manage.
We juggle everything at once and many of us say that we wouldn't do a thing differently, and probably, we wouldn't. But can we all agree that it's not always easy? That walking through life with the constant reminder that another human being relies solely on us can be a daunting thought?

I often think about Mary (as in the mother of Jesus). I think about how she must have felt giving birth to, and raising the actual Son of God. I think about her pregnancy and her unassisted manger birth. I think about how she may have decided how to deal with toddler conflicts and sibling rivalry. I think about how her and Joseph may have talked to Jesus about sex and love, or even what they did when Jesus accidentally pooped his tunic because he was too busy playing to go to the bathroom. I think about this all in the context of Mary raising JESUS, God's actual child.
 I think "Holy smokes! You must have been a woman of so much grace. You also must have gone crazy at least 4 days out of the week!"

I hear a still and small voice whisper to me: "You are raising a child of God as well."

Ummm... was that supposed to make me feel better?

I continue thinking to myself, "well, the child of God that I am raising  walked out of the bathroom with a razor in her mouth the other day. She also decided she wanted to only pee outside on the ground like a dog from now on, and lately (at the bold age of 2) she has taken to calling her parents by their first names."
Just as I am feeling like a complete failure I remember the story of Mary and Joseph traveling on a long journey back home when they realize that they haven't seen Jesus in three whole days. They lost Jesus!

The revelation almost makes me giddy. Mary and Joseph actually LOST the Son of God and well, He came out perfect!

I hear the voice again "You too, are a woman of grace."