Parenting has had its ups and downs, to say the least. I don’t know about you, but when I gave birth to our firstborn, Mathew, no one handed me a manual on what to do next. The book
What to Expect the First Year was very informative in regard to what his development should be; but seven months after Christina, our second child, was born, she began to have seizures and wasn’t achieving expected milestones. Disheartened by each failure, I tossed (okay slammed) the book into a drawer, never wanting to look at it again.
It was lonely and frightening not knowing how to help our daughter. And when other kids babbled and said their first word, we prayed for any attempt to form a syllable. When other kids wrote their name for the first time, we prayed our daughter would hold a crayon. And when other toddlers played “So Big,” we pleaded for eye contact. Talk about wrong. This was not how it was supposed to be, and it certainly wasn’t in the plan.
In her book,
A Different Dream for my Child,
Jolene Philo writes:
“By nature I’m a planner. … Planning ahead was as natural to me as breathing, and my abilities served me well as a teacher. They made my life at work and at home easier and I derived great satisfaction from the efficiency and predictability planning brought to my life.
“But those same abilities put me on a collision course with the reality of life as a mother of a totally unpredictable, chronically ill kid. My administrative skills actually hindered my ability to rest in the day or take pleasure in the unexpectedness of now. They certainly didn’t teach me to trust God to lead and provide for the tomorrow I couldn’t see.”
Can anyone else relate? It was hard for me to see through the fog at the time and realize that God was there. Yeah, I’d forgotten that. In chapter six of
Good Morning, Beautiful, I share the not-so-flattering truth of my inner turmoil that expressed itself by my kicking the cinderblock wall of the hospital bathroom—only to get a wake-up call from God, one that I will never forget.
Suddenly I was flooded with a keen awareness that He had been there all along, and when I internalized this, I realized that this parenting thing wasn’t up to me alone—the One who created us to feel, to love, and to bear children had not left the scene. He was there in the bathroom, and He knew what our daughter was suffering from. I’m not quite the planner that my friend Jolene is, but I did plan that day not to go it alone. And it changed everything.
