the gift of parenthood.

One of my favorite heart gifts I’ve ever received is parenthood.

I’m very visual. It doesn’t matter if it’s planning a product table or understanding a definition, I need a visual to connect all the dots in my mind. So one of the reasons parenthood is top of the gifts-list is because it gives me an everyday visual of God’s perspective. A Father and his children. My word picture for God was religious before Charlie, my idea of Abba was inadequate, and the thought of calling him Papa, was nonexistent. Now everything looks different. 

I feel like my current season in life is a consistent pattern of setups and heavenly mic drops. Specifically, regarding my two-year-old perspective wrecker.. I've had a handful of really impactful moments over the last couple of months that I wanted to share with you.. so here goes!

pancakes.

Little and I made daddy a pancake breakfast one morning. It was perfect. He's sitting on the counter with a big bowl of batter between his legs, helping stir. The music is playing, the sun is shining, we're laughing and giggling over ingredients and the sound of my heart filling up is almost audible. It's messy and perfect. I start pouring pancake batter by the spoonful onto the skillet and per the usual Little wants to help. His coordination isn't quite ready for this major league move and the first spoonful is dumped everywhere. I let him know that this part is mommy's job and distract him away from the bowl. Cue Holy Spirit comparing my life to pancake batter...

The story of the church is a perfect God empowering imperfect people to imperfectly work out his perfect plan. God loves my kingdom-advancing help. He loves when I love people and care for people and engage in their stories and bring kingdom truth into captive places. That's what I'm created for.. Sometimes flour might stir out of the bowl on the way, but that's messy he can clean up. The problems come when I start trying to do the jobs and things that only He can do. 

A large part of my spiritual journey was operating out of my own strength and my own defense mechanisms. I relied so heavily on my own defenses I had no choice but to operate out of my own strength. I carried burdens in a way this heart wasn't meant to carry, I equated behavior modification with spiritual approval, I survived on old glory diets and people's affirmation, until I didn't.. then I was walking away shaking fingers at the mean old God that I couldn't please. I've tried to be people's 911 hotline and I've failed miserably. I've dumped spoonfuls of pancake batter trying to do the job that was only ever His to do. 

thomas the train.

We watch a lot of Thomas. Charlie goes to sleep on train sheets. A toy train will be in his backpack every time we leave the house. This is our life. We watched an episode one morning where one train was teasing another train about not being funny. The entire episode followed these two trains as one tried to prove he was funny and the other continued teasing he was not. "then there was trouble..." 

Rather than acting out of what this little train knew to be his personal characteristic he spent a day and lots of trouble trying to prove his personal characteristic. I've been caught in that same trap.

Whenever I start trying to prove I am something I submit my actions to my limited knowledge of that characteristic, rather than Holy Spirit's knowledge of me.

I believe in a good God who knows my purpose in perfection and knows the depth of my wounds in our imperfect world. He is faithful in his leading and his healing and in both of those things he's continually revealing. Revealing who I am, revealing depths of every characteristic that Webster will never have enough pages to record. I know that I'm a warring woman. If in my insecurity and need for people to see and acknowledge that I'm a warring woman I begin acting in ways I perceive a warring woman should act, I miss the leading of the Holy Spirit. I may recklessly go into unknown battles or grow weary from never taking off armor. However, when I settle into heavenly security and definition, the speaker of stars and knower of every mystery can lead me into any place and any situation doing more than I could ever imagine possible, as simply Erin. 

the first big ouchie.

The inevitable happened. I was getting ready for work, all that was left was to finish brushing my teeth, when Charlie reached over the counter and grabbed my cooling curling wand. His hand jerked back, his wails were immediate, and he was in my arms in a split second. He buried his face in my neck with his hand to my lips to get all of the kisses and prayers. I've never heard him cry that way. He asked for his blanket, something he's never done. He refused to be anywhere but in my arms with his face buried in my skin. 

"Isn't that just like your reaction to pain," Holy Spirit whispers in the sobs. The verse says God is near to the brokenhearted, and I'm starting to learn that's because we run near to him when we're brokenhearted. I can be fine with my morning hello and my bedtime story with God, until I burn my heart and I need his arms and the sole desire of my heart is to bury my face in his neck, disappearing into his safety. 

As Little calmed down and his sobs became that little breath catching sound you make after a hard cry, I set him on the floor to put burn ointment on his hand. He saw me reach for the cream and his face began a slow motion distort into hysterical crying and begging not to touch it. He begged and begged and ran back to bury his face in my shoulder. 

"Isn't that just like your reaction to my healing," Holy Spirit whispers in the sobs.

So often I can find my heart longing for the other side of healing, but dreading what it will take to heal me. So many times in my 11 year healing journey I've known what God needed to do, but begged for him to find another way. Anything other than opening that door. Anything other than uncovering that lie. The fear of the healing pain keeping my heart captive to the real pain.

And the gift of parenthood is here wrapped messily in the distorted face of a distraught two-year-old... for the first time in this 11 year journey I have a clear visual in my head of the heart of my Papa drawing me close to put healing ointment on the wounds knowing that pain relief is a moment away. I would never put something on his boo-boo that isn't good for him and I am broken, conditional-loving human! Which leads me to my last story...

submit and trust.

Charlie is two years old. He's learning independence and opinions and choices. And I am learning balance and patience. He truly is a fantastic, quick-to-listen child, but we have run into many a moment that involves him passionately declaring what he isn't going to do. One bed time he was probably on his 32nd round of "I don't want to sleep" when a word came to mind.. submission. I explained to him the importance of sleep, acknowledged that being made to do what you don't want to do is a very frustrating situation, but in this moment Mommy knew what was best for him and he needed to submit to my decision and trust that I have his best in mind. His little face twisted, determined not to say it... until he said it. At which point he rolled over, said his night-nights and love yous and went to sleep. 

I have not had a great connotation for the word submission, but healing came in the simplicity of this visual over bedtime. Sin, the curse, our flesh - all of it - makes submission of any kind difficult. Broken humanity is wired to take care of self above all else and submission puts our "take care" into someone else's hands. What happens when that "take care" is manipulated? Or mistreated? Or abused? Or forgotten? A person now has tangible evidence that submission is not safe, that no one can be trusted including God. Trauma and disease have that affect on hearts. There's right there, in your face, evidence that says God is not trustworthy and incapable of securing my submission. But submission is such a HUGE aspect of a spiritual journey!

So here's the simple healing in our bedtime routine. I am a conditional loving human. I know the direction I'm leading my son at bedtime - into sleeping - is in fact good for him despite what he may think in the moment. My Jesus knows me so much better than I know my son. He loves me with such unconditional love. If Charlie's submission is safe with me...

My submission is safe with Jesus.
My hurt is safe with Jesus.
My character is safe with Jesus.
My actions are safe with Jesus.
I am safe with Jesus.

And I know all of this because I trust him. My 11 year healing journey is one of revealed trustworthiness. My trustworthiness to my son is critical to his submission being safe. I don't want fearful submission or empty submission.. I want him to count the cost and choose to submit out of trust. ((I know that there will be parenting mistakes along the way, but I have to believe there's just as much healing in place as there could ever be erin mistake)) Jesus wants the same. He doesn't want a brainless bride - he wants a bride that has stared down the man-made, thirst quenching well and instead chooses His soul-quenching, never-thirst-again water. 

"He will keep you steady and strong to the very end making your character mature...God is forever faithful and can be trusted to do this in you..." (1 For 1:8-9 TPT). He is doing something right now to reveal himself trustworthy. He is doing something right now that only He can do. Find your gift. Find the perspective-shifter in your season right now. I know it's there.