The lessons I learn on my lunch break…
In my house, I’m the only one going to work or school during the Christmas break. It’s not easy… for me or Mike. And poor Mike, Eliza’s been working on everyone’s last nerve lately.
Before I tell the whole story, you should know a few things…
In general, Mike and I are really easy parents. We’re generally honest with both kids. We’re generally laid back. We want home to be fun and happy and easy. We kinda roll with the punches. We don’t give the kids chores. I think they should help because they live here not because we offer them money. We don’t doll out harsh punishments. We never spank (do what you will… I’m not criticizing people’s choices, just saying that’s what our choice is).
And periodically, both kids push. They push those vague and shapeless limits and boundaries, and we lay down the law and no one likes it, and eventually whichever kid is in question shapes up & we go back to having fun. And sure, one theory is that we should just keep things strict and we wouldn’t have the pushing. But we’ll risk it.
So Eliza’s been pushing. Yesterday, I told her that if she could meet my criteria (without throwing a fit… minding me and Mike… generally being nice) for two entire days, she could have new bubbles. Baby has been asking for new bubbles for forever. If she can make it an entire week, we’ll take the kids to this fun zone thingy she wants to go to because her friend at school goes.
You with me? Here’s my actual story.
Since Mike’s here with pushy Eliza and video game Griff, I came home today for lunch just to give him a snippet of grown-up talk. He had asked Eliza to pick up the Clue sheets she had torn off the pad and strewn across the room. She wasn’t so much doing it, but she wasn’t throwing a fit, either.
She came and sat by me at the kitchen counter and we talked, and I asked her to go do that for her daddy. I reminded her of the bubbles. She slid off the kitchen stool and went into the front room and did as she was asked. I could hear her begin to whimper.
By the time she finished, she was crying. But it wasn’t that fit-throwing screaming angry cry. It was a calmer, more resigned cry. She curled up on the sofa, and I covered her with a blanket. I told her how proud I was of her, of how she made the right choice even though it was difficult. And before I left to return to work, I turned on Eliza shows and told her she could rest a while. (Mike later said she watched one show and popped up, happy as can be.)
As I drove back to work, I was thinking about how she learned a valuable lesson… and I realized that I did, too.
How many times do we have choices we know we need to make because they are - really and truly - the right choices for our lives? How many times have we felt like God was leading us in one direction when we wanted to go in another… or not go anywhere at all?
Our move here to Florida was so difficult (frankly, I wonder when I’m going to stop thinking that… if I’m being overly dramatic… I mean, Eliza’s not a drama queen by accident), and yet it was right for our family. Just like Eliza’s working toward new bubbles, I was working toward a life free of that unrelenting stress and hatred and fear that had begun to consume us.
And for a while I just screamed at God when I thought about it. But then, it became less of an angry cry and more of a pitiful whimper. The cry of acceptance, a cry of sad pain, the cry of choice.
This last year for me wasn’t one of screaming anger (2007 was so not my year), but one of whimpering sadness. I felt like I was so much stronger most days but then some days, I felt that cry of loneliness and missing well up inside of me. I’m hoping that 2008 was my year of lying on the sofa and accepting.
My hope… no, my prayer… is that 2009 is my year of hopping up and finding that happiness. Of course, that said, I still believe that happiness is fleeting. It’s why I’m chasing contentment.
Maybe, though, by chasing contentment, I will find that content is my definition of happy.
Filed under Faith | Permalink | Comments (3)Tagged with: Eliza • Faith • lessons learned
