Thursday, March 24, 2016


"Cast all your cares upon Him for He cares for you."
(1 Peter 5:6-7)

I worry alot about this whole mom thing. 

I worry that I am not good enough or strong enough or brave enough. 

I worry that-despite my best efforts-I have caused/am causing some kind of irreparable mental and emotional damage to my child that will force her into years of therapy due to my divorce from her dad and all the shuffling from house to house. 

These are the newest additions to the monsters in my closet. 

The things that keep me up at night. 

But, not Sunday night. 

Nights like Sunday night are the nights that God chooses to remind me that I am not failing-I'm just not listening.

Because the truth is this: my child sees and hears and absorbs all the good things in her life-the things that far outweigh the bad, and this is how I know:

After helping her out of the shower on Sunday night, I began to towel dry her hair. While I was doing that, the towel caught one of her earrings that has been giving her alot of trouble. 

The ear instantly started bleeding...alot. 

And she started to cry...alot. 

I worried that I had pulled it out or torn her earlobe, and I needed to look at it and possibly remove the earring to see what exactly had happened. 

When I tried to explain this to her, she cried even harder! 

I knew she was scared and I can only imagine how much it hurt, but unfortunately my impatience got the best of me. 

I was tired from our weekend away, and my nerves were shot. 

Stick me in lots of places with multiple children and I am quickly reminded why I only have one! 

But, I digress. 

After trying to bargain with her for several minutes and eventually losing my patience with her all together, I had officially made the situation worse and through her sobs she asked me to let her call her dad. 


The ultimate sign of mom failure.

She wanted her dad. 

So, I got her in her pajamas and braided her wet hair away from the bleeding ear. I then retrieved the teddy bear that seems to soothe all fears and propped her up on my bed to call her father. 

They talked. 

I pretended not to listen. 

Her tears subsided and then she handed the phone to me. 

I exchanged some short words with him and then told him I'd call him if I needed help, and then we hung up. 

She looked at me through sad eyes, and said, "I know you need to look at it, but I want to pray to God first."

"What?! You want to pray about me looking at your earring?!" 

I didn't even try to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"Yes, mom." she said so innocently, and then hopped off my bed, went into her room, shut the door, and she began to pray. 

I instantly felt bad. 


In that moment my child's faith far surpassed my own. 

How often do I only turn to God for the "big" things, and forget that He is the Master and Creator of ALL things?

Too often. 

How often do I cry out to Him to heal illnesses, provide funding, and make a way where there is no way and forget to pray during the "small" moments: the computer that shuts down in the middle of a project, the stress-induced arrhythmias, the family drama, the co-parenting disagreements, etc? 

More than I should. 

Sometimes I think I still believe the lie that God is this unattainable being who is "too busy" for my problems. 

Why would I bother Him with a paper cut when my aunt is fighting cancer?

Why would I seek His face about my huge electric bill when some people don't even have a home with an electric bill to pay?

Why would I ask for help with my co-parenting issues when I am the one who got myself into this mess? Surely, God does not want to hear about how hard the consequences of my sin are!

These are my attempts at rationalizing my weak faith, and in turn, I shove the thorns, and the paper cuts, and the bitter words under the carpet of my heart and "save" my prayers for the "big" things. 

And as a result, He chooses to send in the calvary in the form of a little girl whose faith will literally move mountains. 

A little girl who wants to pray about bleeding earrings, and bulls going to the slaughter house, and colicky babies who cry too much at Walmart, because she just wants to tell everything to Jesus.

And I am broken

"Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, 
and do not hinder them, 
for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." 
(Matt. 19:14)

My prayer this week is for a more child-like faith. 

A faith that is no longer jaded or lukewarm.

A faith that remembers that His lap is a good place for any conversation. 

Because bleeding earrings matter.

And huge electric bills matter.

And broken hearts matter.

There is nothing too big or too small for my God. 

Just ask my daughter. 

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