Lead us not into temptation

As he’s become mobile this last month, my little one has wanted to get into everything. There are 2 relatively forbidden areas of our apartment to him, being the kitchen and this one little corner in the living room that we have blocked off. The kitchen, for obvious reasons, and this corner because it has our lamp, end table, small trash can, laptop wires, and various other electricals. He has made it a full time job trying to get into these areas, and has created a full time job for me trying to keep him out. Just this morning he pulled the kitchen barricade, which we have made up out of producer style chairs, onto himself. We’ve tried boxes, large tote bins, chairs, and he always seems to find a way to pull them down or push them out of the way. More often than I like, I find myself yelling, “No! Stop!” or clapping my hands while saying, “Hey! Get away from there!!” He looks at me with sad eyes, juts out his bottom lip and lets a few tears fall. I don’t know if he’s crying because he’s not getting what he wants, or because he’s getting yelled at. Either way, it’s not fun.

Last night, he did something I didn’t expect. While I was in the kitchen making him dinner, the living room got very quiet. I came out of the kitchen to check on him, and found he had gotten something out of the corner he’s supposed to stay out of. Usually, it’s the laptop cord, where I end up taking it away and explaining to him that getting shocked would not be fun, while he turns in a circle and fusses at me, and then we move along. This time, he had gotten our stash of easter candy. We had kept it in it’s bag in this corner, and he was able to grab the bag through the tiny crack between our couch and chair, pull the bag as far out as he could, and grab the watermelon peeps that were open. When I turned the corner, there he was, both hands full of green marshmallowy goodness, chowing down on his found treasure.

“NO!!!!” I screamed. He opened his hand, and the marshmallow stuck. I snatched them away from him and not so nicely moved him away from the corner. He burst into tears, as if my love was being ripped away with the peeps he’d been holding a minute ago. I didn’t know what else to do that would help me finish his dinner, so I grabbed the playpen, and for the first time, put him in, turned on Sesame Street and begrudgingly handed him a toy. He looked at me confused, and reached for me. I coldly walked by him. I came in and sat down while his apples and carrots were simmering, and he reached for me again, and I said, “No. I have to get up again, and I can’t trust you.”

After dinner, I found I was still angry. I did what I could to get out of my funk, but I couldn’t believe his gall. He *knew* he shouldn’t be in that corner. What if he had gotten a hold of something foil wrapped? Would we have been on our way to the hospital? I was angry at all the could have happened’s and at his total ignoring of what he knew was wrong, and going for it anyway.

It was then that the LORD came to me and said, “You lead him into temptation.” “Umm, what, Lord?” He then brought to mind 1st Corinthians 8, where Paul speaks of not letting ones rights to eat what they want (specifically when it comes to food that’s been sacrificed to idols) become a stumbling block for the weak. He even goes so far to say that if it causes a brother or sister to sin. he would never eat meat again, in order to keep them from falling. (1 Corinthians 8:7-13)

It’s perfectly fine for my husband and I to eat easter candy. Every now and then we give our son a taste of our Lindt truffles or chocolate bunny (I know, our kid’s spoiled,) and I even shared a peep with him. But it’s not ok for an 11 month old to gorge on 3 peeps by himself. That said, by leaving the candy there, I set up a stumbling block for him, putting just out of arm’s reach what he wanted most, and then told him he couldn’t have it, and that it was mine. Looking at it now, it seems incredibly cruel. I apologized to him for yelling, and changed my mood to a playful one. After he went to bed, I found myself in a new kind of funk, where the anger wore off, and I just felt like a bad mom. I think all parents go through remorse after disciplining our kids, especially if we were harsh, or caused the reason for them to need discipline.

After sharing with a few friends, I sat before God and just prayed. He showed me that much in the same way my son is obsessed with his own way, I am mine, and He is able to set me back on track without screaming at me. He showed me the reasons I get angry so quickly at my little one, and asked me to repent for those ways. He gave me greater focus than being respected by an 11 month old, which just isn’t going to happen. It’s a very honest parent’s prayer, and if you’re ever in the same boat, feel free to take it as your own:

Jesus, help me to love my son in the midst of his ignoring me and following his own agenda, as You love me when I am going my own way, and you lovingly find me and set me back on the path. Teach me what it means to lovingly correct my child and set him on back on the path. Make it clear what he's trying to achieve and help me enable him to get what he wants without traversing into danger. Help me keep him from temptation, and forgive me for setting stumbling blocks before him. Forgive me for losing my temper and not directing him, but rather squashing him. Forgive me for being angry when he interrupts my self absorbed tendencies. Thank you for my tenacious, focused, curious, independent little one. Teach me how to be the best mom possible for him. Amen

In Your presence

Whenever my husband leaves the apartment, our son stands in front of the door and cries. This isn't just a whining whimper of a cry, but a wail, birthed in the depths of his soul, which can go on and on, and often does. He is SO overwhelmed with sadness that, sometimes, only my husband's return restores peace to his heart. I didn't understand why this was happening, until I was walking behind them, as we were leaving our apartment. Being in his daddy's arms, and having me so close by, he looked at my husband, reached out to me, and began to laugh. His laugh started as a belly laugh, and ended with him squealing in absolute delight. Nothing happened except the three of us taking a short walk, but he was filled to the point of outburst with gladness, just being able to be with us.

It was then that the Lord brought to mind David's words in Psalm 16, verse 11, "You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy, and at your right hand, pleasures forevermore." This revelation wasn't just had by David, as in Psalm 84, a son of Korah says, "For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked." These men knew something about the presence of God that I'm only learning in how my son behaves in our presence.

When I think about when I go to God for something, it’s usually when a problem comes up, not for fulfillment of joy or for pleasure. For joy and pleasure, I turn to a myriad of things, like Netflix, food, social media... All of these things are well and good and pleasurable, and I think contributes to the happiness of everyday life. My worship pastor calls them “amusing.”

We tend to think of amusing as funny, but it also means to be kept in a state of being charmed, engrossed and absorbed, with ones attention diverted by humor. To remain distracted and/or entertained. If I were honest with myself, I would say most of the things I say are joyful in my life are just entertaining. I spend my week being amused, letting a deep conversation or a soul-filling moment with my friends or family slip in when I finally get off my phone, or turn off the television. I meet with God when something comes up and in my brief bedtime prayers, or while I hastily flip through my church’s devotional or my mom’s group book, claiming I didn't have time to read until after my son goes to bed, all while not confessing I had time to watch the first season of Dinosaurs in 2 days.

And then Sunday comes. On Sunday, I sit in service and am forced to focus. Forced to quiet my heart and sit in His Presence, and forsake amusement. I am asked to invite the Spirit, while some of the most talented people I know sing blessing over us, proclaiming the love of our God. Many of us stand with hands raised, hearts open, ready to receive His presence. In those moments, tears unbiddenly slide down my face, and I lose all ability to keep up with the song. I tell people worship in sign language because God is not interested in my “joyful noise,” but the truth is that I am so filled with His presence, and the joy that comes with it, I lose my capacity of speech, and while my lips might do nothing but tremble, my hands can keep worshiping. His presence fills my soul with such joy that it fills me all the way up to my eyes and pours out of me. I feel so uplifted after leaving church. Probably the best I’ll feel all day, and the best I've felt all week. Do you know that feeling I’m talking about? Where you seriously feel like you just communed with God for the last couple of hours? It’s amazing, isn't it? So why can’t I remember it by the time I get home from work Sunday night? Why do I choose amusement over the fullness of joy?

Paul said that we do what we don’t want to do, and don’t do what we want to. Sounds ridiculous, but God, it’s so true. I think it’s because we associate joy with something we have to work for or create, when, as my little one is teaching me, it’s just about dwelling in the Presence. When I’m around, he’s not 100% focused on me, as he goes about playing with his blocks or trying to figure out his next scheme of how to break into the kitchen, but focus isn't necessarily the same as awareness. He is fully aware of my presence, at all times. If I move, he is on top of me in no time flat, as if to say, “Hey! Don’t leave!” As a mom, I feel like our awareness never turns off, and our focus is always on overdrive, and so we crave moments where we can just shut down. We think streaming show after show or spending hours on social media will relieve us, but at the end, when I've finished a bag of Dove chocolate and I’m dragging myself to bed at 2am, I realize I’m not energized, I’m not happier or less stressed out, and that it was all just temporary reprieve. I’m not saying that reprieve is bad, but I need more than that to function at my highest levels. I need lasting energy. I need joy.

My little one lives, moves and has his being in my and my husband’s presence. He is most fulfilled when we available to express our joy and pleasure to and over him. He is aware of our absence and cries out as though he has an ache, an emptiness in his soul, until he can be secure that we've returned. I pray that God would give me the same desperation for His presence as my little one has for mine.