After a long day of seesawing emotions, rivers of tears, and volcanic tantrums, my son was exhausted. I read him a story and tucked him in bed for the night. Amid the crowd of his favorite blankets and cuddly stuffed animals, I squeezed in on the bed next to him.
I was disappointed by our difficult day and at my own failures to help him through it. I have learned that his heart is most tender, his soul most bare, in the quiet darkness, wrapped warm in his blue and red fire truck quilt, surrounded by all his favorite items. I snuggled with him, hoping to speak to him about the challenges of the day.
We talked about his behavior and his angry responses. I asked him what he wanted to tell God about his day. "Mommy, I just can't pray. Can you?" I know that hesitancy to come before God messy and ashamed. I've felt the same way. It's as though I think I need to be all cleaned up before I approach the throne.
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1 comment:
I'm just grateful for this article. I have been struggling with my youngest child. It is not an easy road. I must continue to stretch for God in this area.
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