It’s been about ten years since anyone has called me a “diaper head.” In all my life, I think I’ve only been called a “diaper head” once! HA! I share this Wednesday re-mix in celebration of the growth our family has experienced since that fateful diaper-headed day. Read on to learn again that our family is very imperfect, often dysfunctional but God isn’t finished with any of us yet!
|I’m the shortest one in my family and the happiest
when I have a ginger with his arms around me.
Sparks were flying and it was almost a week past the fourth of July. My precious Isaac, the red head, had turned into a human firecracker! I didn’t know that much dynamite could fit into a 30 pound “container.” All this fury over a simple command to pick up dinner napkins. Apparently I was the match that set his anger ablaze. I knew Ike had a temper but whoa, seriously?
|Don’t let that smile and cowboy hat fool you…
this guy can be a stinker!
He slammed doors, screamed and even charged at me with two tightly bound fits. His red eyebrows furled, his blue eyes enraged all because I told him he needed to do his regular family chore. Firm attempts to corral him weren’t working and things were going from bad to worse. Just that afternoon, his brother, Aaron, had been rather challenging so by this time, I was humbled and worn out.
Hoping Ike would soon tire because I knew I certainly was exhausted, I doggedly pursued justice to no avail.
|I prefer fireworks at a distance, thank you very much!|
“Mommy is a diaper head! You’re a baby head!” flew from his ruddy lips. From the bathroom where he had been exiled, Isaac’s self-control had completely left and mine was hanging on by a thread.
The normal forms of correction we use weren’t working and the situation seemed desperate. What was I going to do? The Hubs wasn’t home, there was no back-up. I had to handle this one alone.
But in my second of need, I realized I was wrong. I was not alone. It’s then that I heard His voice.
“Pray, Cindy. Pray.” I slowly walked up the stairs speaking to God with each step, asking for guidance, counsel and patience. His still, small voice beckoned me and told me to do something for Isaac that clearly wasn’t my choice.
God told me to hold him. Simply take that furious fellow into my arms and rock him gently. Let him know I loved him.
This wasn’t exactly the form of discipline I had in mind (LOL) but I knew the Lord was guiding me to be “quick to listen and slow to anger.” James 1:19. Then He told me to show mercy and compassion. God told me to forget Isaac’s pre-school insults. So against all my human judgment, I cradled that angry guy in my arms and spoke softly to him. The firecracker and his mom were finally settling down.
|A snapshot of life too many years ago…|
It is a tradition each night before my sons go to sleep, to pray for them. I petition the Lord for and with them and always thank God for the blessings I find in being a mother. That night, I assumed it would be tricky to give great laud and praise for all the day’s adventures.
But again, the Lord supplied me with the humility and gratitude necessary. “…and thank you God for letting me be Isaac’s mommy today. Even though it wasn’t easy, thank you God.”
|I love seeing Aaron’s physical and
spiritual muscles growing!
A little later on, I tucked my middle OS in bed. Despite a rather action-packed afternoon with him as well, I said, “…and thank you God for letting me be Aaron’s mommy today.” I gazed into that handsome face and just smiled. We stared at each other for a moment and to my surprise, Aaron rang in after me…”and thank you for letting me be Mommy’s child today.” He’d never said anything like that before!
God had spoken and apparently I wasn’t the only one listening! Being a mother is an aerobic activity. Hard on the mind and body.
But to the soul, O Lord, to the soul, motherhood is infinitely more complex. In the course of a few hours I had a whirlwind of feelings. God’s soft and mighty hand soothed us all. We had gone from intense emotional explosions to quiet, gentle love. The Lord Jesus found us where we were in a crumpled mess. He gave us what we needed to heal. Praise Him!
Is there something in your own family that’s troubling you? Feeling bruised and beaten in this job of a lifetime? Have you ever had a few agonizing hours as a parent? My prayer for you my friends, and I mean this with sincerity, is that each of you reading my post will experience the kind of day I had. Grow and give great thanks to God from whom all blessings flow. Fireworks can be dangerous and are pretty to the eye but I discovered on a hot July night, they can be beautiful to the heart and soul.
|My beloved firecracker|