Every time my heart screams, "stop", I push my body for the "go". The children clamor cacophonous and my eyes squeeze shut against the knife in my ear. Sometimes I shout, hands shaking, to get their attention, to get them quiet. But then we dive in together, into whatever got them so excited. Last night, painting. The day before, constructing a fort.
My therapist calls it "opposite action" but I've learned to call it "delight". Half way through, I always find myself giggling with my kids, a kid again all wrapped up in the glory of whatever we've poured our whole selves into. In therapy, they tell you to do exactly what you're afraid of doing - for me, exactly what I'm afraid of failing at. For a year and a half, since we left our church, it's been these children. What if I am failing them? What if they were hurt for no good reason? What if I can't do this parenting thing alone, without a community of faith? What if I'm not enough?
Each "what if" slowly is replaced as the days march on and I do the opposite and find out I can.
What if I'm failing them? Of course I will. But not this moment.
What if they were hurt for no reason? The reasons are big. And they aren't as hurt as I thought.
What if I can't do this parenting thing? Every time I do delight, I build to the list of times I HAVE done it.
What if I'm not enough? Of course I'm not. But I am the RIGHT one. The only mother God gave these kids.
The Lord directs the steps of the Godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. (Ps. 37:23)
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