But the hardest part wasn't even something that was out of my control. The hardest part was my response {or lack thereof} to my darling just-about-kindergartener when she requested help choosing her outfit for the day. Don't get me wrong. I know that my opinions matter zero, and that in fact, me 'helping' her is really me just holding up a wide variety of items for her to see and touch and nuzzle and smell so she can make a well-educated decision on what matches her feelings at that particular moment. {Because, letsbehonest. She's going to change a half dozen times today. Minimum.}
As she sat on the floor 'W' style {despite my multiple requests to change positions}, the fashion experience began. As tradition has shown me, the best way to approach this is to create a little fashion 'capsule'--three top options {striped, strawberry, and mermaid} and three bottom {mint, neon yellow, blue & purple stripe}--that can work with one another {but only if you're 5, the third child, and your mother has really given up caring so long as you leave the house clothed}. This technique not only gives her practice in making choices, it often yields results in a reasonable amount of time.
Until it doesn't.
Sparing the details, let's just say mama lost her cool. Inaudible whining, claims that her underwear wasn't 'fresh' enough {ahem...mom forgot to use 'smell goods' in the dryer}, and a determined obsession with the word 'no' put me into a tailspin. My tone was not nice. It was not calm, understanding, or even remotely polite. Instead, I slipped her jammies off her body, wrapped her up tight into a pre-determined 'soft blankey', and left her to cry on the couch while I got showered and dressed for the day.
Somewhere in the middle of wash rinse repeat, I found myself in the middle of hosting a one-mam pity party featuring a heavy dose of self-loathing and complaining. And that's when God interrupted me.
Stopped me right in the tracks of my tears and gave me perspective.
This morning I was presented with a capsule of things to deal with and choose from. I dealt with the various physical ailments that were affecting me but when I stopped to think about it, I really hadn't released the power they held over me. I had three top options--early wake up, an awful headache, a bout of nausea. And my three bottom options--my kids, my patience, my faith. All three top options were bothersome; a pain {literally}, and had the power to affect my entire day. I couldn't see how any of them would be able to coordinate well with my three bottom options; so I gave up trying. I whined and complained and essentially said that what I was given to deal with today wasn't fresh enough for my liking.
But God didn't care.
Wait. That sounds harsh.
He does care--more than we can even envision--which is why, when life hands you a crappy capsule of options, He's there. Guiding, nudging, teaching. We're not promised to have a life filled with ease and comfort {I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. ~John16:33}.
What we are promised, however, is that in the midst of our strife, our trials, pain, discouragement...He is there. Our comfort and peace is found in knowing He understands us; hears our cries; loves us. No matter how big or small our troubles may seem, His Word brings peace and calm, wrapping us in a big hug that lets us know it will all be okay in the end; that we will find our way out from the dark.
Sigh.
I'm really, really glad He didn't leave me crying on the couch; but sought me out, crying in the shower.
I quickly found a comfortable outfit {and yes, it is fresh} and made my way back to the little mound of sensory-struggling blankey and curls that was gripping the remote control with brute force. She wanted no parts of her mama, no parts of choosing an outfit, no parts of anything aside from Hotel Transylvania 2.
So I just sat alongside. And I leaned in, squeezed her not-so-little-anymore bare foot that peeked out from the pre-approved soft blanket.And I watched her. Soon, I watched her grip on the remote loosen, saw the blanket shift as her form turned toward me, and soon had gorgeous chocolate brown, inquisitive, innocent eyes starting back at my recently dried ones.
A smile.
Silent, innocent, sweet. Grace.
And before I knew it; He met us there.
I'm really, really glad I didn't leave her there {for too long} crying on the couch, but sought her out sniffling on the ottoman {she definitely was not going to stay where her mama had put her}.
And I'm really, really glad that she found a comfy, approved, fresh outfit for the hour or two she'll wear it.
And that my headache has subsided.
Bless.
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