Tonight at dinner, tensions were running high. The boys
weren’t eating particularly well. Hurtful comments had been made, followed by
an accusation, and then insistence that it was true. The made-up accusation,
followed by the allegation that I’m relying on revisionist history, is
especially popular in this household, and it destroys my spirit every time. There
are plenty of truthful things I could be accused of. Why bother making
something up? I'm told it's a trademark of narcissim, and I don't expect change any time soon. Or ever.
And then Violet pivoted in her seat, craned her face up
toward me, and said, “Mommy, I’m fankful for you.” She still talks like a
muppet, and the “th” and “sp” sounds are especially troublesome. It’s so cute
that I’m ill-inclined to correct it. And in that moment, her unexpected
gratitude softened the anger that was welling up inside me. It ended the
previous conversation, and slipped hope into the well of hurt in my heart.
A few minutes later, I was loading the dishwasher when she
scraped the last morsels on her plate into the trash and slid the plate into its
spot on the dish rack. “Fank you for dinner,” she whispered. “And fank you for
my my milk.”
Is there anything better than genuine gratitude from our
kids? No matter how agitated, or worried, or frustrated I am, a thank you from one
of my kids immediately softens my heart toward that child. If I am plotting
punishment, the severity diminishes. If I’m feeling generous, the scope increases.
I want my children to see what I do for them and appreciate it. Can God be any
different?
The Bible tells us over and over again to give thanks.
Often, I’m so caught up in avoiding the big, wrong things that I am not
supposed to do, and I forget to be obedient in the seemingly little things:
things like giving thanks, refusing to worry, and adoring God. Maybe those
little things are the keys to God’s heart. If my human heart can reorient
itself in the face of adoration, gratitude, and trust from my children, surely
His heart can be glad when I do the same.
I’ve been struggling lately with deep feelings of self-pity,
anger, and hurt. They are justified. I don’t want to deny them because I’ve always
been put off a Pollyanna-ish faith. Every time I see Michelle Duggars pasted-on
smile, I cringe. We are fools to pretend our emotions don’t exist. Yet maybe
this is the crux of obeying God: to acknowledge my feelings but still give
thanks. To adore God when the adoration doesn’t seem to be true. To behave in a
way that demonstrates faith, even when my heart can’t feel that faith.
In the past few days, I’ve tried to yield my prayers to God’s
will. I’ve been actively trying to pray for the things He puts on my heart. I’ve
been trying (hard) not to be a backseat driver.
I want God to feel about me the way I feel about Violet. I
want to make his heart glad. I want to trust Him like she trusts me. I want to
be the beloved daughter I’ve never felt like I could be. Maybe that starts with
giving thanks?
