Why brokenness is a blessing…
“Nap time, babygirl! Come here, please.” From across the room I could see her stiffen, prepare to protest. I gave her fair-warning. “Make a good choice. Will you say ‘yes’ or ‘no” to Mama?” There was no need to remind her of what a ‘no’ response would earn. She knows.
She stiffly, and slowly, walked over to me. Her mouth said yes and she made her feet move, but her face and demeanor were “no-ing” all the way. I picked her up, took her to the potty, and told her to go before her nap. She sat down, didn’t go, said she was done.
Outwardly obedient but deep-down defiant.
I took her into her room for the rest-time routine. Rock, snuggle, sleep. I pulled her up on my lap in the rocking chair, but she pushed away. Again, silent, but stiff as a board and at arm’s length. I carried her over, crawled under the quilt at her side. She lay still for a moment, then a mischievous look came across her face.
“I need go potty.” I knew it. Kids will use anything to control. To defy. I was choosing this battle and wouldn’t lose. She’s beautiful, but manipulation is not a beautiful quality when it’s all grown up. I kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye.
“No. Mommy already told you to go and you didn’t. You’re not getting back up.” She fussed again, insisted she has to go, begins to pitch a fit. I think to myself how I don’t want to change wet sheets.
But I’ll change her sheets in order to change her heart.
“No.”
Her eyes widen as she realizes it’s a lost cause. She can’t win because I won’t budge. And almost visibly, right before my eyes, I can see the cracks, then the crumble. I can see her break.
She’s broken. She sobs.
And almost in the same breath-sob she reaches both arms out, wraps them around my neck.
She clings hard, pulls me close, and cries,
“Mama, I wan’ keep you.”
She wants to keep me. These are the words she uses at night when she longs for me to linger. She squeezes me tight round the neck and holds on, says she wants to keep me. Won’t let me go.
I, of course, don’t pull away.
I draw her even closer into my arms.
She’s soft. Pliable. She rests, relaxed in my arms. I hold her, my arms all the way around her little body as she rests in her bed. Even though I’m crouched over, quads burning, I stay there, my head on the pillow next to hers, kissing her cheeks.
Within two minutes she’s sound asleep.
That’s me, I think. That’s me.
Why often do I stiffen, proud? Willing my feet and mouth to say yes to God but protesting no within my heart? Every time I choose myself, my own way, I push Him away, hold Him at arm’s length. He seeks to rock me gently, I stiffen and push Him away. He draws near to hold me. I talk to Him perhaps but my prayer is still just grasping for control. But then something jolts, cracks, crumbles.
This is how we break. This is why brokenness is a blessing.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Ps. 51:17)
Of course He won’t! Of course He never will. The same way that I hold my broken-spirit daughter, envelope her completely, engulfed in my love until she falls sweetly asleep. Until she rests in my love.
Why do we push Him away? Our pride, the God-repellent, it stiffens within us, incites us to rebellion, but we must make it bow. Must make our feet and mouths and hearts say “yes” to God.
Then, no matter how far away He feels, He will envelope us in His love and let us rest secure. And resting secure we discover the truth:
Brokenness is the only path to wholeness.
–
{Remembering this from last year. Praying blessed brokenness–and wholeness–for you and me this week. Can you let go and rest in His arms? He loves you so!! Thank you for reading.}
Parenting Preschoolers: A Picture Plan
Don’t you just love when you find something that works?! Perhaps you’re like me and you’re so used to trial and error that when something becomes trial and success you pinch yourself–Yes!
After sharing about my difficult Easter Sunday I received a lot of helpful advice. It was clear that part of what created the massive meltdown was a triple threat of terror for tots: 1) Being sick, 2) Change of routine without notice, and 3) Raised expectations without notice. All those three things came into play that day and the result wasn’t pretty. I learned my lesson about taking kids to church when they don’t feel well, and learned my lesson about having unspoken expectations of my kids that aren’t clearly communicated. But #2 was the one that I really saw as the kicker, and every day since I’ve seen how this plays out in our home.
The reality is I have a 4-year-old who has an aversion to change. So whenever I suggest something (anything!) or lead us into a transition there is constant resistance. So I found myself irritated, annoyed, and could feel myself tense up in even approaching transitions, because I knew there would be a battle.
So a schoolteacher friend of mine suggested making a Picture Plan. It totally made sense. Since Dutch can’t read my schedule for the day, he has no way of mentally preparing himself for transition. Sure I can tell him, but if you know 4-year-olds you know how long they’ll remember that — about 30 seconds.
So we started in the morning making a Picture Plan. Simple really. I write out the 8-10 main events of the day, while he’s watching so he can help create our plan, and draw a picture of each one next to it. For example:
Ok, pretty simple and insignificant, right?
He loves it. It’s life-changing.
He got so excited the first day, as he looked through all the pictures. We’d keep checking back on the Picture Plan all day so he could see what’s next and anticipate the change. Results?
Amazing. Sometimes he’d even come find the Picture Plan and hold it up, showing me what we were going to do next. Even on the day that I was off studying and Jeff was home, Jeff created the picture plan (pictured above you can see his beautiful artwork) and it worked like a charm again. Plus, it gives the kids a chance to each pick one thing to put on the Picture Plan for the day.
The kicker? Yesterday there was one point where we actually got through all of our activities but still had some time before rest. So I said the kids could do some more playing outside if they wanted. Dutch responds, “But Mommy, it says we were having our rest next.” Ummm…. Ok! Can you tell how much this has helped my dear little boy?! Of course sometimes a welcome change is great, like today since our house is showing I let the kids watch Toy Story. But before I did I drew it in onto our Picture Plan so they could see how it fit into the whole scheme of the day.
Genius.
I’m so thankful for my dear friend (who doesn’t even have her own kids but who has “raised” hundreds of kids in the classroom!) who gave this advice. It was obviously an answer to prayer.
Do you have a little one (or a big one!) who has a hard time with change and transition? Maybe a Picture Plan is just what they (or you) need to save the day. Hope this can help. Blessings on your day.