It’s been a morning of stories already.
Caleb is 4 today. So we had a morning of making nerf-gun-shaped pancakes and opening a few presents. But all of that pushed us back to get out the door by 7:30.
So right after I posted a sweet, adorable picture on Facebook to celebrate my youngest (because I figured that was the best way to get out the door on time), I asked him to please brush his teeth.
This adorable, sweet youngest proceeded to throw himself onto the floor and wail about how he can’t do it.
We talked, I told him I could help him finish but he needed to start himself, and other patient, loving things. (I didn’t want to blow the whole amazing-mama-pancake-thing on something as small as teeth brushing.)
Finally, since time was running out and he was being disobedient, I started counting. He got up dutifully and started brushing. But the fussing continued. I rolled my eyes as I finished getting ready until I heard what he was saying:
“I just need to go slowly, Mama. I just need to go slowly.”
I was humbled.
But, true to form, we were right back at it in the car. We talked about the day and when Caleb’s school was mentioned he goes,
“Yeah, and I’m the boss.”
Caden almost immediately got angry and started crying (he’s like me and cries when he’s frustrated). I made him tell me what he was feeling. He was so distraught that Caleb thought he was the boss. I don’t even think Caden was wanting to be the boss; he was just upset at the idea that Caleb thought he was.
So I asked, “Do you really think Caleb thinks he’s the boss of everything?”
No.
“Do you think he just wants to show us when we’re at his school what he’s learned and what he knows?”
Yes.
Alright, then.
And, finally, I haven’t told you about a couple who has been coming to my second Fall Avoidance class. They are wonderful. He’s been a political science professor at WSU for 53 years. (And you would love his wife. Every time he donates to politics, she makes him match the amount to charity. She is a gem.) He still works full-time at 83 and, according to his wife, has won pretty much every award he can win there.
But he struggles in my class.
If he looks at the sign telling him what walking exercise to do, he isn’t sure how to start. So I will show him. He will then do something similar but not exactly what I’m looking for. So usually what I end up doing is modeling the exercise right beside him, but slightly to the front so he can see.
He regularly says self-deprecating things like, “I’m a slow learner.” Or “I’m a little dense.”
Now do you really think this cerebral professor is a slow learner?
Finally today I said, “You are not a slow learner. You are just not a kinesthetic learner. You know many things but in your 53 years of teaching, you haven’t been forced to make your brain and your limbs connect. So it will take some time to let those neurons connect what I’m asking you to do in your head to what I want you to do with your limbs.”
I remember feeling the same way my first time in counseling. The main goal for a good Christian counselor is to take things a lot of us know in our head…and transfer them to our heart.
It’s what Jesus meant when He asked us to clean the inside of the cup, not just the outside.
We can do this, Church.
We have to do this. There is a watching world waiting to see us take what we know and live it out from the center of our souls.
They can smell disunity. The already completely understand pride and self-protection and digging broken cisterns that don’t satisfy (Jer. 2:13).
They want to see us love. Each other, most of all. We can only fake it for so long. We have to love from the center of who we are. If we find that we’re not, we have to be honest with Him about why. And pour out our bitterness and complaints and deep, deep wounds to Him so He can replace them with His love, forgiveness, mercy and freedom.
Beauty for ashes.
Every time.