I read once that to be a mother is to forever after wear your heart outside of your body. I find this is often more true than not. On the one hand, I find it reassuring that, as one so prone to bouts of selfishness and self-focus, still there is something within me that springs to action when one of my children experiences pain or danger. In spite of my human nature with all its flaws and imperfections, my love for my kids is fierce, and because of that, I sometimes find my heart breaking at my inability to keep theirs from doing so. This was the case yesterday. In the whole realm existence, this was a relatively small thing. My baby had hurt feelings. He felt left out; he felt unjustly treated; and he felt like he didn’t have a friend in the world. The first rip in my heart came when I saw him huddled all alone behind a bush, bravely wearing his knight helmet- after all, while he might be my “baby,” he’s seven years old! Nigh unto manhood! It would never do to have his peers know the depths of his sensitivity. Thus this valiant knight kept his helmet covering his eyes so no one would see his tears. But even moms of knights have a sense regarding the emotional status of their tender warriors. He was reluctant to share at first, but finally he divulged what was causing his pain. Now, the grown-up in me realized right away that, first of all, tiredness on his part was largely to blame, and secondly, no one had intentionally been mean to him; his perspective was simply that of a tired 7-year-old child. However, the grown-up in me also understood that the enemy doesn’t waste opportunities like that upon which to leap and give “interpretation” to the situation, i.e., “You’re just not likeable… you’re no good… you’re this, that, or the other…” And to think of my son being lied to so viciously and to know that his precious little heart was bleeding caused me such sorrow. I sat with him on the ground and cried with him. I so desperately wanted to hold him and cuddle him and make everything alright for him. I said, “Logan, come on out from behind the bush. Come to me. Let me hold you.” “No, Mom!” was his horrified reply. He didn’t want his friends to think there was a problem at all, let alone have them witness his mom giving him comfort.
As is the case with many childhood dramas of this nature, it was short-lived and soon forgotten- by Logan, anyway. It was something I pondered later. I thought about how badly I wanted to hold my child- how I could almost feel the physical ache in my arms as they so badly wanted to cradle my little boy. While I wanted to acknowledge his feelings and let him know that I understood the hurt of his heart, I also wanted to shed light on the truth of his circumstances for him so he would have a proper lens through which to view himself, his friends, and his life in general. But he wouldn’t come to me. I could only cry with him and tell him how much I loved him and offer what words of solace he was willing to listen to. I realize that we, as adults, aren’t really all that different. How often we hide behind the bushes, so to speak, our faces covered so no one will notice that we’re hurting. But God knows. And he comes to us, and his heart is torn as he hurts right along with us. And he says, “Come on out from behind the bush. Come to me. Let me hold you.” “No, God!” is often our horrified reply. There are sundry reasons for our refusal of his loving overtures: fear… pride… embarrassment… most of which, if not all, stem from a misconception about who he truly is and misplaced trust. Oh, but how patient he is! He doesn’t weary of sitting on the ground with us, even if all we’ll allow him to do is whisper how much he loves us and cry with us, but he already sees the day when we’ll fall into those daddy arms that have been aching to cradle us, and he sees the freedom we’ll walk in when we allow him to bring to light the deception of the enemy and shine the light of truth into the darkest corners of our hearts.
My Father, how I love you! How I desire to be in your great loving arms always. Yet even so, there are those times I resist. Why that is, I’m not always certain. But even when I don’t allow myself to be comforted by you, you never cease to give comfort. You never stop pursuing me; wooing me; inviting me to go further in and higher up with you. So many people, God, have yet to experience your daddy love. How your heart breaks for them! Give them eyes to see and ears to hear what your spirit is speaking to them. May they know the fullness of joy that is theirs for the having.
