Be sure
that no one misses God’s grace. Hebrews
12:15 NIRV
Last week God taught me an amazing lesson in, of all places, the
dentist’s office. We had the first
appointment of the day. I am not sure
why an 8:00 appointment seemed like a good idea six months ago, but somehow we
arrived on time. The young woman led me,
Jake, and Lilly down the hallway, past friendly animals painted on the
walls. This was our third visit to the
dentist since they both turned two, so I assumed we had settled into that
veteran mode, where tears and fears were no longer as issue. Why, oh why do I make those assumptions?!
Jake is normally the timid, more cautious one, and since my kids
are polar opposites, Lilly claims the title, “Brave One.” On this particular morning, they decided to swap places, without sending me the memo. Jake quickly climbed into his chair, excited
to get the show on the road. Lilly did
the same, but seconds later she was in tears.
Each time I asked her what was the matter she frowned and slumped
further and further down into the chair.
Our last visit went smoothly, so I was not prepared for this
uncooperative and very unhappy patient.
When the X-Ray machine came close, she backed away. When asked to bite down, she refused. When asked what was wrong, she cried
harder. Finally, I realized this was
going downhill in a hurry, so I asked if we could skip the X-Rays for the time
being and try them again later. (It was
the first experience with X-Rays and I thought maybe a quick chit-chat would
help get to the bottom of her fears.) We
talked and she calmed down, and eventually she agreed to cooperate.
When the hygienist came in to clean Lilly's teeth, she explained everything she would be doing. She
even showed her how it would feel by pretending Lilly’s fingernails were her
teeth. I could tell Lilly was warming up
to her and that she was gaining trust for this sweet, gentle woman who I wanted
to take home with me- she was that
good. Lilly was ready to lean back, open
her mouth, and be a brave big-girl.
Until the tools made noise.
Within seconds her hands flew up to her mouth and the tears ran down her
face for a second time. Patience
abounded in that tiny dental room, I tell you!
When all else failed, a princess crown was mentioned. At the sound of getting to pick such a prize
after her cleaning, Lilly tried as hard as she could to be brave. And then she quickly decided otherwise. That’s when the screaming happened. Not irritating-unpleasant-sounding wails. No, these were more like blood-curdling-earsplitting
shrieks that could have easily broken every window in the building. Saying it was a bad visit is a horrible
understatement.
As we walked up to the reception area to check out, Jake was
offered a prize. He had already received numerous praises from the staff and especially from me, as I was relieved to only have one screaming child instead of two. He took a couple of
seconds and then confidently made his decision.
My heart was breaking for Lilly who was clinging to my legs. She wanted that crown, but she definitely did
not cooperate with any of us and she most certainly interrupted everyone’s
morning- at least those within a two mile radius- with her shrillness. That’s when I realized that I hate these kinds
of decisions. I dread the moments when
as a Mom I have to decide what to do, knowing my words carry extreme weight.
When Lilly was asked if she also wanted to pick a prize, my heart
sank, remembering the conversation we’d had in the car before the
appointment. I had reminded them about
choosing a prize and I went through all the things that I expected from
them. I knew what I would be saying if I
let Lilly have the crown. But looking
down at her, I suddenly felt this overwhelming desire to give her exactly that.
I pulled her aside, bent down and looked into her watery eyes and told
her that how she acted was not acceptable.
I pointed out how kind and helpful all the ladies had been, and asked
her if she thought she deserved the crown.
She shook her head no. Then I
made a deal with her. She could have the
crown as long as she promised to try her best to be brave the next time we
came. She agreed and was soon happily
wearing her crown.
I can tell you that there were some folks present who totally
disagreed with my parenting. As a
recovering approval addict, I wish I didn’t notice, but I did. No one told me so, but there is a tension in
the air you can just feel when you are a Momma of a kid who misbehaved- let me
correct that- a kid who misbehaved badly. But as her Mom, I knew in my heart that she
wanted to be brave and she wanted to do what she was asked to do. Yet, fear snuck up and stole her courage.
As I sat in the car, drenched in sweat from this early morning
fiasco, I regrouped and prayed honestly to Jesus. I had this feeling I had made a mistake. I wasn’t even sure why I said what I said and
did what I did. It felt so wrong to give
my child a crown when she acted the way she did. What am
I teaching her? I thought. Did I do the wrong thing? I asked Him. Clearly
she did not deserve to be wearing a princess crown.
Tears were flowing and this time they were mine. Why don’t they tell you parenting is this
hard? They prepare you for the sleep
deprivation, they offer classes for breastfeeding, they’ve written books on how
to handle temper tantrums, but no one explains this heart-wrenching feeling
that inevitably follows every decision you make as a parent. No one tells you that on a daily basis you
will have to choose what is more important- your child’s heart or what other
people think of you. It’s moments like
this that make me want to hug my own mom and tell her how much I appreciate
her. With deep breaths we continued our
morning errands, and I continued my prayer long past the parking lot. As I pulled up to a red light, I felt the
most precious three words enter the quietness of my heart. This is
grace.
A princess crown is probably the farthest thing from what Lilly
had earned.
This is
grace.
Her behavior did not measure up like her brother’s, yet she also
received a prize.
This is
grace.
Lilly did not deserve a crown, but still, she was wearing it- with
a smile.
This is
grace.
Grace is a word that gets thrown around a whole lot, and I think
we often forget that it is truly amazing.
Grace is what we have all been given- undeserved, unearned, and precious. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and
realized that I don’t deserve to be wearing the princess crown on my head
either. As a daughter of the King, I did
not earn an invitation into His kingdom- it was a gift. I don’t deserve to be called His child
because of my track record, yet that’s exactly who I am. Even when I try to act the way I know I’m
supposed to, I still fall short. Grace
is something I can never, ever earn.
Feeling a whole lot better about the situation, I wiped my tears, turned
around, and told Jake how incredibly proud I was of him. I told him how happy it made me that he
listened at the dentist and acted like a big boy. As I shifted my gaze to Lilly, her head was
already hung, brows furrowed as if she knew what was coming her way. When I told her that I was proud of her, too,
she looked up confused. She knew she
had not acted in a way that made me proud.
But instead of focusing on her behavior, I focused on her as my child,
the way that God looks at me. “I am so
very proud of you, Lilly, because you’re my girl.” Smiles spread and grace rerouted our
morning. It’s a beautiful thing- this
grace.
God looks not at our messes, screw-ups, or failures. He is not a bit surprised by them. In fact, He expects them. He waits for that moment when our heads are
hung low, when we’re disappointed that we’re here again, and then He lets us have it. This is
grace. He gives it freely and abundantly not because we deserve it, not
because we can ever earn it, but because He loves us, and we are His.
This is
grace.
But he
gives us more grace. James 4:6 NIV
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