He comes to me in the evening as teeth are being brushed and baths are drawn. “Could I talk to you in private, after people are in bed?”
The mystery hangs over the nighttime singing the girls tucked into bed with dollies slumbering in toy cradles on either side of the queen sized bed they share.
I finish singing and give extra hugs and he climbs out of the top bunk and meets me in the den. He has a confession to make.
So I watch as he struggles to get it out, lip trembling, voice breaking, stopping just before the words actually leave his mouth over and over again and I hold his hand and smile and do what I can to give him strength.
I am not surprised by his confession, nor dismayed. The action itself is minor, but I know the deceit that went into hiding it from me and it’s been weighing on his mind. He’s not been sleeping that well, tossing and turning and talking in his sleep.
So when he’s finished talking I draw his too big and heavy boy frame into my lap and he sobs into my shoulder with relief at having unburdened himself.
I ask why he thinks he did it and he doesn’t know. But I do.
Who will deliver me from this body of death?… For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. Romans 7:24 & 19
And I tell him that we all fall and we all fail and how much courage it takes to confess and that I’m proud of him for setting himself free from the shame of it. He weeps and weeps as I tell him I will always love him and when he lifts his tear stained face it has a smile on it.
And the whole time I wonder to myself what I ever did to deserve a child with such a noble heart, with the character that he already has?
He is such a gift.
Here are a few more.
Bam Bam now hugs my neck and lays his warm head on my shoulder when I pick him up.
Baby dolls tucked into bedside cradles.
“good morning mama” from Little, always with a hug. Her hair is getting long and has crazy tangles every where from the night before.
Rain beating down outside the house.
Sheepskin boots and sweaters.
Waking in a warm nest of down with smiling baby next to me.
The Boy’s excitement after getting to drive to church with daddy, just the 2 of them in the car.
Hot chai.
A sponsor for our benefit concert, an answer to prayer barely a day after I finally remembered to pray about it.
An extra hour in the mornings without feeling weary.
The Boy is still wearing his hobbit costume and asking about elevensies.
Milly so often taking the kids for me and making it fun.
Zoo memberships for the kids, a gift from someone dear.
A wonderful volunteer who gets stuff done.
3 thoughts on “What to do with failure, counting blessings”
You are a special mum…that's what you did to deserve a special child 🙂 Beautifully written.
That IS a wonderful boy. And a wonderful mama.
I love it when my kids come up to me and confess something that I didn't even know about. That's when I know that God is working in their hearts.
Comments are closed.