Highlighting Innocence

Once, when our first born was four years old, she stood in the foyer of our home holding her kitten, wearing a little corduroy jumper.  The light streamed in from the front of the house, and made her blonde hair sparkle.  She was filled with innocence and sweetness as she looked up at me, and it was as if heaven opened, and highlighted that moment for me.  Highlighted her innocence, her purity.  I'll never forget it.

Today my parents came to take our Sunshine to her violin lesson.  They pulled in the drive, as she was just finishing up some baking she had begun.  I was out in the driveway to meet them, and as I turned to see if she was going to be coming soon, or if I should go in to get her, the door burst open.

Out onto the porch spilled this same innocent child.  Dressed in a coral blazer with a navy blue crocheted dress and matching coral sandals, she came.  Kicking up a cloud of dust, heading toward us on a dead run, hair flying every which way, she came.  Her violin and books in one hand, clutching a small paper towel with two "fresh baked" cookies for Nanny and Poppy in the other; her Kit doll tucked safely under her arm. 

A picture of innocence, highlighted.  Twelve years old, and full of life, radiating sunshine.  This beautiful blessing, running towards me...  I'll never forget it.

The thing is, it's all beautiful...

Friday, my joy came rushing back.  It's been nine months, and I have been patiently waiting for the grip of grief to loosen... for the joy that has always marked my spirit to find its way back to my days.

That morning, I opened my eyes, and felt it.  I must have giggled and laughed and smiled more on Friday than all the last nine months combined.  It was like drinking Living Water.  Friday afternoon found me out with a friend for a two and a half hour break of laughter, story telling, and fun.  We laughed... a lot.  I felt "spunky" again.

I returned right on time, as promised for an appointment with my youngest - just "you and me" in the rocking chair.  It's his new favorite thing.  Which, in itself, is a huge success.  When we met him, he didn't know how to rock, nor did he care for any part of it.  Now, six months later, he's a rocking machine!

He'd had another one of those days... those angry, testing, pushing away, resisting love days... but he is beginning to crave the rocking chair, so as soon as I walked in the door, I hung up my purse and sat down - motioning him to climb in my lap.

He settled in and then began recounting his day.  "I was angry today", he said.

"I know, buddy.  It's okay", I responded.

"I don't want to be angry anymore.   My heart has all these broken pieces in it." 

"I know buddy".

"I wish I could just have Jesus with me all the time, and I wish He would give me a new heart, and I wish He could take away my anger".

Oh, Lord - my heart!  I've been praying for this day, when He would want to live his life for you.  So there we were, all snuggled up, when I asked him if he'd like to have all he had just wished for.  We got Daddy, and as we both laid our hands upon this small child, our son prayed... asked for all those things... and was received into the kingdom of heaven.

Then, with the faith of a child he asked, "Momma?  Can I ask God for just one more thing?"

"What's that, honey?"

"I want to see Jesus, right here in this room, I want him to show himself off to me". 

And so, I replied.  "Son, don't you know?  Don't you know that Jesus lives through Daddy, and through me?  Every time you are hungry and we feed you, every time we keep you warm, and care for you when you are hurting; every time you look into our eyes and see them sparkling right back at you, when you are angry and we scoop you up to rock you... that's Jesus... right here in this room - showing himself to you."

"Momma?" he said, "I knew you guys were the good people".


So, even though we are far from "done" on this road to healing, even though there are tough days ahead, the fact is... it's beautiful here.  It's all so beautiful... and I'm back.  My sunny heart is back, and it's shining Jesus all over my home.

Oh No, We'll Never Let Go - Part Three

(Continued from Part Two)

I continued helping my "fussy" baby boy, rocking, singing, stroking his face as he screamed and yelled "I do not want to be close to your heart!!!" and rocked while he blurted out, "I CANNOT love you!!!" 

Then, after over 4 1/2 hours since the beginning of our morning, it happened.  He let go of it all.  The tears began to flow, and in the privacy of our empty home he began to tell of the "bad things", and the "sad things" he's been hiding inside.  All those years of neglect, and all those years of fear, and he began to trust me enough to hand them over to me. 

When he was through, I asked him if I could pray for him.  He nodded in agreement, and as I was asking God to take away the memories (thank you, Beth, for the idea!) of all those horrible things, I heard a tiny little boy voice begin to bring his heart to God.  My little son trusted me enough to bring his brokenness to God, while he was holding my hand.

Soon he was asking God to take away the anger, and give him joy... he was thanking God for a Mommy who would not let go, and wasn't angry, wouldn't hurt him, and didn't yell.  And then we sang together and read together and I let him just stay and rest with me until he decided he had had his fill. 

An hour and a half later(!), he was ready to get up.  But not before requesting "his song" I made up for him.  Then, after I had gotten done singing that one, I heard that song come to my mind, the one from the radio... and I sang it to him.

"Oh no, (we'll) never let go, through the calm and through the storm, oh no, (we'll) never let go, in every high and every low, oh no, (we'll) never let go - no - (we'll) never let go of you!" 

And he grinned the widest grin... and his eyes were bright with love and happiness.  And I am amazed at how this is exactly how God loves us... he never lets go, we rage and scream, and throw stuff, and do it 'almost' right... we tell him "I CANNOT love you!", because we're so aware of our own need for real Love, and we're so afraid if we finally let go, and trust Him enough to care for our hearts, we'll die.

That's when I realized... I'm a "child from the hard place"... and I've got a Daddy in Heaven who will never let go.  He's with us, on this journey to walk the road of healing with our son, and he'll never let go.
*Edit: I must add here, that when I say I am a "child from the hard place", I mean all of us, each of the Sons of Adam, and Daughters of Eve, all... are a child from the hard place.  (My home of origin was a beautiful, sweet, oasis.  Just to clarify - and to honor the childhood my parents gave me.) <3

In case you were wondering, it took just one minute to complete the "one minute task" after we were done connecting and rocking.  Once that was done, he went to the laundry room to get a towel on his own, wiped down the couch, pushed in the chairs, and offered a suitable response to the broken toy.   Then, (don't pass out), he thanked me for helping him.  Keep going, my friends, my "mothers of children from the hard place"... it's worth it... they're in there... under all that fear.

 

Oh No, We'll Never Let Go - Part Two

Here we go then...back to the chair, and our "one minute" task... 

If you remember right, we were at home, and I had just assigned our Jitterbug the task of sitting on a chair for one minute, with his hands on his knees.  I was using this task to help me see if he was ready to listen and follow - and to see if it was "safe" to venture out in public today...

...So there he is at 7:30 in the morning, sitting on the chair, with his hands... on the back of the chair.  He is looking at me with mischievous eyes, daring me to see that his hands are not where I asked them to be.

"I can wait a long time, darlin'... no worries about hurrying this along, okay?" I say with tenderness.  Those eyes tell me quickly that this is not going to be an errand day after all.  I quickly resolve to conceal my disappointment at the calls I won't be making, the laundry that will never be rotated, and the milk that will remain in the dairy section of the neighborhood Winco. 

8:00 has him with his hands on his knees, but no kidding, he's actually on his knees (not his bottom), and he's demanding "this is too what you told me to do!", and could I please "honor the agreement and let me move on with this day?"
 
He is sizing me up, testing me to see if I've got what it takes.  Am I strong enough to be trusted?  (No worries, small son... I've got this.  I'll take us both to a place of healing by not giving in to anger). 

8:30 and he's under the chair playing with a toy car. I chose to ignore this at this time, as I had four children to get ready for school.  (That's okay, I'm not looking to force him to obey at all, I'm looking to provide him with an opportunity to simply surrender on his own to a small, one minute project.) 

At 8:45 I inform him we will take a break to eat.  He eats breakfast, and we drop the girls off at school.

9:15 has us back to the "one minute" project.  He has now thrown the chair across the room, broken someone else's toy, hit the couch, and stomped on the floor.  We talked briefly about how he will need to put this energy back into the home when he's done by doing a small task for the person's toy he broke, wiping the couch down, and pushing all the chairs in to the table.  He asserts I will never see him doing these things.  I raise my eyebrows and smile.  I have never lost yet.

9:30 he's on the chair screaming at me, and he's sitting backwards.

10:15 another break.  We take the big kids to the retirement home.

10:40 back again we go.  He's now sitting on the floor with the chair on top of him.  "Will this work, Momma?"  he asks.  I do not respond audibly, but my eyes twinkle and my head shakes, "No, son."  I am now reading a magazine while sitting on a chair in front of him.  His real goal is to get me to join in the raging, his secondary goal... to disrupt and frustrate me... if either were accomplished, he would succeed at breaking the attachment.  He asks why I am smiling at him, with that "gentle face"!!!???  He does not like my gentle face.  I tell him cuz I've got the "Joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart.... WHERE?.... down in my heart!...."  This does not please my small angry son.  The singing does, however, help me keep my cool and remain in a position of being unflappable.  I was rockin' unflappable today.

11:00 I tell him he can take a break, as I am going to the kitchen to start dinner.  "Please let me know when you'd like to try again - and I'll fit you in to my schedule", I say.  11:10 he's bored, and I have not reacted at all to the screaming... (did I not tell you I was rockin' unflappable?) -he'd like to try again.  I returned to witness the "one minute" moment.

11:20 Still no success.  Finally, he pulls the trump card out and begins to attempt to dismantle the living room, throwing things here and there.  I bend down quickly, call him to me... no success.  I remember how I learned at this point to lower my voice a bit, slow my words down and give clear directions... no success. 
After realizing I'm going to have to catch this quick, angry rabbit to help him calm down and keep us both safe, I wait for my moment and when he is close enough, I swoop in, scoop him up, pull him to me, tell him of my love for him, and begin to rock... he, wrapped in a soft blanket, me rocking back and forth and whispering my love.

I've decided to call these days "fussy days" as I would have if he had been eighteen months old, instead of 6 1/2.  (The temptation is to label him as "out of control", or "defiant", but now that I've been studying, I know that this is F-E-A-R, fear so hot it sears him on the inside.  If my eighteen month old were this scared, I'd hold him, I'd rock him, I'd speak soothing things to his soul.  We'd say he was "fussy" but we weren't sure why - and we'd love, love, love.)

(See "Oh NO, We'll Never Let Go - Part Three)

Oh No, We'll Never Let Go - Part One

This post is mostly for those of you in the trenches, doing the work of loving on those little ones "from the hard place", however, if the following is not your current reality, I invite you to read on - as today was so much more than that.  Come celebrate with me...

Dear mother-friend of mine, I believe that this is the hardest thing you have ever done.  I believe that your life looks oh, so different than the one you dreamed of when you were just a girl, in your room, rocking baby dolls to sleep, and pretending to make dinner on plastic burners. 

If that's you... if your dreams are crashed upon the rocks of someone else's brokenness, then come with me to the reality of my "today".  Come sit with me awhile, and I'll tell you of the success of today, in the midst of the hard things, and the glimpse I saw of my son's heart, and the reality of the fear that still drives so many of his behaviors; how I fought a very long battle to keep his heart close to mine.

So many of our recent days together have been filled with our Jitterbug pushing away from the love, nurturing and connecting that I keep bringing into our relationship.  I am a relentless nurturer, pursuing my son with all that I have to bring to the table.  Humor, silliness, tenderness, love, gentle touch, smiling eyes, song, and so many more "horribly scary" (to him) actions. 

I've been "loving strong" lately, and frankly, it's freaking him out.  He is beginning to feel a sense of connection to me, Mommy #4, and his old tapes in his head are telling him plainly "we are in immediate danger".  This is his very reality, and studies show kids from these hard places absolutely believe they have kept themselves alive through maintaining power and control at all costs.  Simply put, if they were to give up that control, they would surely die.  He fights this hard, because he is so afraid that if he lets us lead, he will die.  We believe if we don't fight for his heart and win, he will never truly live.

 

Today, I thought I'd begin with a simple direction to assess our small son's level of cooperation.  This would be a good indicator of if we should venture out in public or stay home today.  I asked him to sit on a chair for one minute, and place his hands on his knees.  The reason I gave two directions (where to sit, and what to do with his hands), is so I could see if he was really "on board" with obeying.  We're learning he can sometimes conceal his true rebelliousness through the morning routine, only to take it out and display it for all to see at random places, such as the store, post office, library, church service, etc.  Our goal is to only venture out in public together if his heart is ready to follow joyfully.  This is saving us from so many unnecessary embarrassments, and is keeping his ability to seek power through public displays of anger to a minimum.

After today's battle, I'm so very grateful God gave me the idea to test our Jitterbug's heart in this way.  I could have had a real "experience" at Winco I would not have soon forgotten!

(See "Oh No, We'll Never Let Go - Part Two")