Like a Child Crying "Mommy"

“Mommy,” my two-year-old Sophie turned to me, her big blue eyes, glassy and tired. With this one quiet, desperate plea, my heart broke.  Sophie had been admitted to the hospital with a kidney infection. After spending all day at the doctor’s office running tests to find out why her fever was so high, we were sent straight to the hospital. She had already endured a catheter and having blood drawn and she had missed her nap. 

At the hospital she suffered through two more catheters, having more blood drawn, an I.V., shaking uncontrollably and vomiting from a fever that was too high. The second day, they decided to do a test to find out why she had the infection. They assumed the valve in the urethra was not closing to prevent urine from traveling back up to her kidneys. So they had to fill her bladder completely full with water and dye via the catheter and perform x-rays after she expelled it. 

This was a traumatizing experience for her. She had already cried and screamed throughout her other procedures, but this was apparently the worst one, according to the nurses. One of them even suggested that I could wait outside as some parents did because they couldn’t handle the child’s crying. I probably looked dumbfounded to her because there was no way I was leaving my baby girl when she needed me most. Sophie screamed out, “MOMMY” while the procedure was taking place. I was right there gently comforting her and holding her hand. 

In fact, she had screamed out “Mommy” several times: during each cath insertion and during the x-rays. It was so hard to hear her pleading with me in desperation to do something to help her. She didn’t know that everything that was being done to her was for her own good. I stayed strong, not wanting her to see me upset. 

However, at a quiet moment in the day, after all the procedures were done, we were sitting on her hospital bed watching Dora the Explorer. She was leaning against me, her back to my stomach, when she turned to me looking into my eyes and said the aforementioned one word, “Mommy.” This time, she wasn’t screaming or crying. It was a small desperate plea that she had had enough. She turned back around and continued watching Dora. It was that moment that my heart could no longer be strong. The tears began to silently fall and I wished more than anything that I could take her place.

It’s easy to relate this back to our Heavenly Father. There are times when we are going through difficult situations, that we cry out his name wondering why He doesn’t do something. Like Sophie, we don’t understand, and we just want Him to make it stop. I can almost see Him looking at us lovingly and speaking gently to us, but our emotions and our mind are running rampant. We may not hear him speaking to us until we are quiet and still.  “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Anytime Sophie slept, she wanted to sleep on my chest. She was so traumatized by the whole thing that she would say, “Mommy hold me,” even though I already was. She simply could not get close enough to me. That is how we need to be when we are hurting. We need to draw close to God. It may seem like He isn’t there, but He is. Just like I wouldn’t leave Sophie during her procedure or any other time for that matter, He refuses to leave us. I love the way the Amplified Bible shows the intensity of Hebrews 13:5, “He [God] Himself has said, I will not in any way fail you nor give you up nor leave you without support. [I will] not, [I will] not, [I will] not in any degree leave you helpless nor forsake nor let [you] down (relax my hold on you)! [Assuredly not!] 

Just like I wanted to take Sophie’s place, God wanted to take ours. He may not take our place during our circumstances, but He did send Jesus to take our place and die for our sins. “For He hath make Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.” 2 Corinthians 5:21 “And He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed.” 1 Peter 2:24 

God is our Heavenly Father; no matter what we are going through He loves us and is there with us. And if we are truly His, when all is said and done, because of His sacrifice, we are victorious, we are healed, we are whole.

A Faithful God and a Little Boy

These are the tiny shoes and the exact outfit our little Nathan was wearing at 6 months old when God spared us in an automobile accident exactly ten years ago today. These adorable little shoes rest on a shelf in our breakfast area as a constant reminder of God’s faithfulness. 

The evening sky was dark and rainy. Little Nathan was asleep in his car seat when a truck hydroplaned and crossed the median on Interstate 75 right in front of our car. We had nowhere to go. We T-boned the truck at full speed. In the split second before impact, my only thought was of my baby in the back seat. I blacked out and when I came to all I could hear was my baby crying. I couldn’t move; the pain in my back was excruciating. Steve’s door was jammed shut. I began to scream for help. Although only seconds passed, it seemed much longer. A kind young man ran to my door and when he opened it, my only words were, “Please check on my baby!” 

 He gently unbuckled Nathan and once he was out of the car, he stopped crying. A thorough doctor’s exam at the ER would later confirm that he was perfectly fine. Not a bruise, not a scratch. The car was smoking so the scared young man who was helping us urged us to get out of the car. Stunned and scared ourselves, we got out the best we could. Unknown to me at that time, my back was broken, thus the terrible stabbing pain. I crawled out on my hands and knees, made it to the side of the road and rolled over flat on my back. Since Steve couldn’t get out of his door, he crawled out on my side with one broken hand and the other bleeding profusely from several cuts. With his injured hands, he took Nathan from the man and Nathan was content to look around taking it all in. He wasn’t crying anymore at all. The man’s friend brought a blanket from their truck and wrapped it around Nathan. I still have that blanket. I don’t know this kind stranger's name or what he looked like, but I thank God he cared enough to help.

As I was lying in the emergency room, pain medicine starting to take effect, my mind came to a humbling realization. For about three weeks prior to this accident, I had felt impressed to pray especially for Nathan’s protection. From the very first day Nathan came home from the hospital, I have spoken God’s promises over him every night at bedtime. But I began specifically to speak protection scriptures like Psalm 91, Psalm 34:7 and others over him while praying for his safety. I knew right then in that ER room why I had felt so impressed to do that. I praised God for answering those prayers and I still do.

There were other things that I know were done to prepare for what was going to happen. Nathan had outgrown his infant car seat. I had researched online for the safest convertible car seat we could afford, and it had been installed just that Monday. However, Nathan’s head had a tendency to fall forward when he fell asleep. Since we knew we would be driving a greater distance Friday evening, we adjusted the seat before we left so he could rest comfortably without his head slumping forward. Had his head been leaning forward, the force of the impact could have caused serious injury. 

There were also no vehicles immediately behind us in our lane, so when our car came to a sudden stop, there was no one behind us to collide into the back of our car, where Nathan was sleeping. My mother said it was like angels kept all the traffic back. And I believe God did that too. Semi-trucks are a constant on I-75, but at that time, there were none in sight.

Although this was ten years ago, We will never forget. Psalm 78: 4, “We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.” As I think back on that frightful night that could have turned out immensely worse that what it did, I know that God is faithful. I know he loves us. And I know he has a purpose for our sweet, intelligent, analytical and funny, now 10 year old boy, Nathan.

My Girl

Just when I think I am getting the hang of this parenting thing, I’m thrown for a loop. It has always seemed that way. When I get used to my children doing one thing or being one way, they throw me a curveball. The end (or beginning) of a phase, stage or whatever you want to call it catches me off guard. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.

Six months ago (to the day) when my daughter Sophie turned 8, she began showing her individualism and need for independence. She no longer wanted to wear the cute clothes from Matilda Jane and Jelly the Pug. The ruffly pant sets from Zulily are no more. “They look like they’re for babies.” Sigh… Every Sunday now when I pick out her clothes, she would rather wear something different. Not too long ago, she loved everything I bought for her. Not anymore.

It made me sad when she reluctantly told me she wasn’t crazy about “My Little Pony” anymore. I say “reluctantly” because she knew how I would feel. She and I used to love watching it together. I knew all those cute little ponies by name! She no longer plays with dolls except her “American Girl” dolls. No Barbies or princesses either. In fact, when cleaning out her toys, she decided to give most of them away.

I guess I thought we would go on enjoying these things together for years to come, but she has her own set of likes and dislikes, and I am learning that I cannot force her to stay little forever. I am realizing that she is developing into her own “person” and she no longer agrees with all my opinions. She has always been my little side-kick, so it’s tough to watch her separating herself from me. In my mind, I know it is a good thing. She is learning to be confident in her own thoughts and decisions. I know it’s not healthy to force my own personal tastes on her. She needs to be able to stretch her wings and not rely on me to make every decision for her. However, my heart hasn’t quite caught up yet.

She still shows that she needs me, though and wants to cuddle every night. So I am heeding the words of so many moms before me, I am making the most of these opportunities. She had a headache last night so I lay in bed with her and held her until she fell asleep. No matter how big or independent she gets, she will always be my baby. I’ll admit that the future of navigating through tween and teen years with my girl somewhat intimidates me. I want to hold on tight. God grant me the wisdom to know when to hold on and when to relinquish the reigns (and the ability to do so).

Through the Eyes of a Child

I wasn’t sure how to begin this post, but I was so touched by my daughter’s heart, I wanted to make sure I wrote it down. There has been much tension between races, specifically between black and white in the U.S., for as long as I can remember. The subject has been in the news a lot lately and all over social media. Living in the South, we seem to be stereotyped as prejudice. Truth is many of us southerners despise racism as much as anyone else. 

In our home, we try to follow God’s example given to us in the Bible. God looks on the heart, not the outward appearance (1 Samuel 16: 7). God does not show favoritism, and He tells us not to either (Acts 10:34, James 2:1)). Jesus died to save us all. (John 3:16) No one race is better than another. Romans 12:3 tells us “Do not think of yourself more highly than you should.” In fact, James 2:9 lays it out pretty plainly, “But if you show prejudice, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as violators.” We have never made race an issue in our family, except to point out that God loves us all and made each of us special in our own way. I honestly don’t remember our kids ever having made a big deal out of someone having a different skin color than them. 

Wednesday night, it was storming while we were at church. My daughter, Sophie, was supposed to go with her dad, brother and some other volunteers to a retirement home to visit with the residents. Because of the storm, she was scared and she begged not to go. Instead, she “helped” in the nursery where our choir members’ children were being cared for. When I picked her up after practice, she was gushing about how sweet the babies were. She described one baby who loved to cuddle with her, simply as having brown hair. She couldn’t remember his name. 

When we were in the car pulling away, an African American family walked out the door, a mom and her two little boys. “There he is!” she exclaimed. “He’s so cute and he’s soo sweet!” I smiled and completely agreed. I thought it was precious that she didn’t point out the color of his skin to describe him. Though there would be nothing wrong with that because he is as God made him. I know she saw his skin color was different than hers and the other children in the room, but that didn't make him any different from the other babies. She rocked and cuddled this sweet little baby with “brown hair.”

Children are not born prejudice; they are made that way (directly or indirectly) by parents, grandparents or the environment around them. We can teach them to dislike others because they are different, or we can teach them to show respect and compassion and care for others no matter what they look like.

In My Daughter's Eyes

Like most moms, I have those days that I wish I could do over. Days when I was too moody, too tired or too busy. Unfortunately, some days it turns out to be all three and then some. Days when I snap at my kids and my nerves are frazzled. Days when nothing seems to go right...and the house is still a mess and my son tells me he has no clean pajamas.

Lately, at the end of days like these, I have found myself sneaking into my daughter's room, sitting on her bed and just watching her sleep. I love both of my children equally, with all my heart. But it's Sophie who always sees the good in me. She makes me want to be the person she thinks I am. At bedtime, she tells me I am the best mom because I am sweet and kind even when I know I wasn't just earlier in the day. She always has an encouraging word and a warm hug. I want to be the person she sees when she looks at me. I don't know how long this will last, but I will cherish it as long as it does!

This song is the perfect story of me and my little girl.

To Shelter or Not to Shelter, That is the Question

"You can't shelter your kids." This is a term I have heard used a lot, and I believe it is a false statement and also a true one.  I know that doesn't make much sense, but let me explain. I believe it is our responsibility to shield and protect our young children from influences and situations that they are not mature enough to handle.  Young children are not always able to comprehend how to make the right choices.  Allowing them to see and hear things that are too mature for them causes confusion for them in what is right and wrong. They also are just not old enough to fully understand the consequences of certain behavior.  We need to preserve their innocence just as long as we possibly can.  So, in the words of Dr. James Dobson concerning sheltering our kids, "We should surely try!" 

Now as children begin to get older and more mature, they are better equipped to make wise choices IF they have been taught to do so by their parents. Their minds are better able to understand situations and know right from wrong more than when they were young. So we can and sometimes do need to loosen the reigns a bit so they can begin to make good decisions on their own. However, as parents, we must stay "in the know" with our children and their environment. They are still children with very impressionable minds and hearts.

On the home front, I have often wondered what some Christian parents are thinking when they allow their children to view movies, TV shows, video games and music that are not "child friendly".  I know many children, 7 or 8 years old, who have seen movies that have content in them that makes even me as an adult uncomfortable.  Why do Christian parents allow and subject their impressionable children to such things? 

One form of reasoning it that "Our children know that the bad things in the movie, video game, etc... are wrong."  Another is, "They hear language like that at school every day."   Another even is, "they will see it eventually."  My thought on that is what are you teaching your children?  What do you want them to think about bad things?  Most parents would say that they are teaching their children that the bad language and violence are wrong.  Then why do they allow them to be subjected to it?  If you are teaching them that it is wrong then you allow them to watch it, play it, listen to, aren't you contradicting yourself?  Psalm 101:3 says, "I will set no wicked thing before my eyes."  And what about the sexual immorality in these things?  Is that something you want your children to see and think about?  Because they will think about it!  Those images will be engraved in their minds.  Our 9 year old son wants to watch the Iron Man movies, but we can't let him because of the overt sexuality in them.  We as parents should not allow immoral things before our children's eyes.

No matter if our children know right from wrong, it is our responsibility to shield their eyes, ears and hearts from the corruption of the world.  1 Corinthians 15:33 says, "Do not be misled.  Bad company ruins good morals and corrupts good character."  Not only does this mean who they hang around (so, so important), it also includes the company of movies, TV, music and video games that are bad.  Come on parents, it's OK and it is responsible to shelter your kids as long as you can.

In Pictures

 I've heard a picture's worth a thousand words.  I guess that depends on who is viewing the picture. To my children, a picture of  them when they were very little is something to giggle about or tease each other about.  "Look at your hair!"  "Look at all that food on your face!" To their dad, he sees his little boy and girl growing up too fast and it sometimes makes him sad. To me, their mom, I see two happy, healthy children enjoying their childhood, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Like most moms, before my first baby was even born, I was determined to do everything right. By the time my second baby came along, I really didn't know exactly what "right" was. I was just doing the best I knew how.  To me, though, it was never enough.  I read so many parenting books and magazines that my head was spinning because of all the contradictory advice. I knew I only had one chance to get it right, and that terrified me.
Most nights I lay in bed and felt guilty over one thing or another, never feeling like I actually had this parenting thing down.  I cried because I raised my voice or snapped at one of my children. I felt guilty because I didn't get to read that book that Nathan asked me to or take them to the park like I had planned.  I worried that I was seriously messing up my kids.
I had wanted to stay home with my children during their preschool years because I wanted to be there for every moment. I wanted to be the one seeing to their every need. I had no idea how hard that would actually be. I wanted the very best for my children, and if I was the one with them 24/7, who would be the one who failed if they were scarred or messed up? Me... Oh, the pressure I put on myself.
Sophie and Nathan were 22 months apart. They both had acid reflux, which was painful and made it difficult for them to eat. Sophie was extremely sensitive to everything. Light, sound, people! You name it.  The girl cried non-stop for months. My babies were not the kind who would sit for an hour and just play with their toys like other babies I knew. Mine were very hands on.
When Nathan was around 3 and 4 years old, we butted heads like rams. He wasn't a bad kid. He was just a child that was...more.  He cried hard, laughed loud and felt things deeply.  He was strong willed and very intelligent. He analyzed everything and couldn't let anything go.  I didn't' realize it then, but he's so much like me. I thought for sure, I was doing everything wrong with him. 
But for the grace of God, I probably would have.  I never prayed so much in my life until I became a mother. I prayed every day for God to help me be a good mother. I prayed that in spite of my mistakes that my children would know how much they were loved.
When I see those pictures of them (and there are so, so many) I see the fruits of much labor and prayer.  They are smiling, laughing and playing, and I was there for all of it.  No matter how hard it was, when I see those pictures, I know I would do it all over again.
(Except for maybe the non-stop crying, and I would go a bit easier on everyone, including myself.)