I peer out the window and observe my two boys building fallen leaf piles and jumping into those leaf piles. My oldest creates a shovel with his hands. He pushes all the leaves back into a mound while my second watches. When the mound is big enough, both boys take a running leap. They jump right in to the crunchy leaf mountain, enormous grins plastered on their faces. I can hear their infectious laughter through the window.
Turning my back for mere seconds, I hear a wail come from the mouth of my two year old. I know this second child of mine has somehow fallen yet again because I hear his cry often. He was playing and laughing with his brother in the leaves, and now he’s sprawled flat in the leaf pile. I know tears pour from his beautiful green eyes, and my heart breaks for him.
If I had my 2 year old’s track record, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.
Bump after scrape after tearful fall has become the anthem of my sweet boy. Corners come out of nowhere and the floor meets him head on (literally).
He is a growing boy of persistence as he asks mommy and daddy for a kiss on his boo boos. Then he takes a little sniff before toddling off to follow his big brother on their next adventure. For now, these bruises don’t hold him back from enjoying life. He perseveres through each scrape.
My oldest son has already been through this precarious stage (although he himself is still not immune to getting hurt). His jeans are worn out at the knees from falling so many times as he learned to stumble, walk, and finally run.
Now he has new challenges, a new independence that he doesn’t want but that his parents gently push upon him. Getting the dog’s food, picking up strewn toys, putting on his socks and shoes. To him, his mantra has turned from “let me do it” to “I can’t.” But soon these simple chores will be daily life, and a new challenge will emerge. My husband and I know this, and we hope our son will learn this too.
I think back to just days earlier, when my friend and I had discussed the 4 month sleep regression and newborndom (a word for being in the trenches with a newborn).
Having multiple children, we discussed the different ways we had approached these stages.
With our first child, we had tackled this regression fearful, relentless, full of tactics and a full-blown “cry-it-out” game plan.
With our second child, we had some of the same merciless strategies, but some tools were forgotten and new tools were added to the arsenal.
But by our third child (myself currently in the 4 month stage as I write), we realized that each phase was not something to tackle. Battle shields up and ready, terrified by each month marching steadily toward us. We didn’t have to fear those first few months because we had seen the light at the end of the tunnel with our other two.
There will be tears involved by all parties, but these developments are not something to be feared. We don’t need to become distressed, waking up each day wondering when the ticking bomb would explode (aka mom or child).
We can enjoy our children presently, knowing certain stages come and go. The hardest stage being the unknown one of our oldest. But again, we know that whatever comes at us, there really is only one way forward: to move through each stage as it emerges.
I think about Exodus 14:14, a favorite verse of mine.
I love the idea of God fighting for us, and the only thing we need to do is to be silent, eyes fixed on him. We wait for his lead.
As wonderful as this verse is on its own, it stands in a bigger picture of God fighting for the Israelites. We see that this verse is when the Israelites are running from Pharaoh and his men. The Egyptians are hot on the tail of the Israelites. Verse 10 says that as Pharaoh “drew near, the people of Israel lifted up their eyes…and they greatly feared.”
The Israelites cry to the Lord. They more or less complain that they should have just stayed in Egypt. They begin losing faith that God is actually with them.
But Moses, ever the encourager to his people, galvanizes the Israelites, leading them forward in faith. This is when he says to the Israelites to not fear, God will fight for them. They just need to be silent.
Then in verse 15, “The Lord said to Moses, ‘Why do you cry to me? Tell the people of Israel to go forward. Lift up your staff, and stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it, that the people of Israel may go through the sea on dry ground.’” (Emphasis my own).
I know the Israelites were bewildered as they thought, “God wants us to do what? Go through the sea? Now we know He has forgotten us!”
I come back to present day as I head toward my crying two year old.
My two year old has a lot more falling to do before he eventually learns how to balance is ever-growing body. I can’t protect him from every cut, bruise, and scrape. I can only walk through this stage with him, helping him as he goes, bandaids and Neosporin at the ready.
The best way is not over, around, or beneath. The only way forward is through. Through the mess, through the heartache, through the pain.
And each stage is a learning opportunity. A chance to connect with God and say, “Hey, this is hard. Am I cut out for this? Are you here with me? Can you tell me what to do next?”
I relate to the Israelites in their own thought process from above.
At first, I’m excited for a new adventure (having a baby). Then when I see the endless nights, the constant neediness, and my own sanity slowly slipping away, I quickly forget who goes before me and hems me in from behind (God). I become fearful and complain.
“God, you’re not going to snap your fingers like a magician and make this all better? Where are you in all of this? You’re saying the only way I can move forward is to go through this?? Oh bother.”
(The Adventures of Pooh, anyone? Or as my kids say, “Oh father.”)
Unfortunately, I too thought each stage was God testing me to see if I could do it myself, to demonstrate my ability to care for a newborn on my own. And in turn, I made myself so depressed and anxious by my need to fast forward to the stage where I could get something right.
It was only when I allowed God to become my helper that I realized my need for a power outside of myself.
This is also what I reiterate to my two sons when they’ve fallen or they are trying something new and difficult: get up, move forward, and you will get through this…with God’s help.
There is always a way forward.
You can complain and become fearful, or you can take each moment that comes and praise God for the here and now.
And God, always pursuing the broken-hearted, saves those who are “crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18). Because he is near, in the present, you will “Rejoice always, pray constantly, and give thanks in everything, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
Dear friend, no matter the circumstance, the only way forward is through. It’s hard to comprehend, but when we trust God through the process, putting all of our fears and worries into his capable hands, rejoicing flows freely from our hearts and floods the actions of our lives.
Amen.
Your Turn
Is there something in the here and now that would be much more enjoyable if you would give it to God and ask him to help you through?
If you can’t give it over to God, can you ask yourself why not? Is there something holding you back?
Do you notice anything specific about the way through? Do you need to be still, knowing that God is in control? Or do you need to move forward?
God only wants good for our lives. I learned this the hard way when I tried, on my own, to force my way through just about every day of my children’s first months of life.
Instead of ruthlessly picking ourselves apart day in and day out, we can rest our beaten, battle-worn bodies in his presence. The peaceful waves of his existence will calm our hearts and minds as we look to him for the way through.
