I know God must also be a woman, because no man would listen to your same problems a hundred times without sending you a not so subtle “how to fix this” billboard after hearing it more than two times.
People warn you, nothing can prepare you for parenting. No book, no manual, no amount of babysitting. This is because never in a hundred years would you imagine your bedtime routine would be watching your 5 year old son wrestle with the 20 snap buttons on the onesie pajamas (which you had to shop for in the baby department) on his stuffie Pooh-bear and if you touch any part of these pajamas during this exercise all buttons are undone because he can and must “do it himself.” Bedtimes with children are pure insanity. The child who had no words for you all day, who wanted to never sit for a book, or play a game with you, now has UNTOLD hours to waste. One more song. One more tuck. One more stuffie to snuggle. One more drink. All needs that have been apparently unmet from the day have come like a dump truck and offloaded onto your waning patience. It is the same child who interrupted your sleep at 3 am, who wanted to sleep at your feet, on your floor, anywhere but his bed, that now feels the pains of ‘lack of parental attention’ at 8pm.And for some reason, at this point of your sleep deprived day, your “cup does not runneth over.”
Children are curious creatures. Stubborn, independent, yet needy and as sweet as soft and moldable as butter on a hot day and I love my little buttercups. But what’s frustrating is how simple the command to be patient has shamed untold generations of people who have untold problems that are unsolved. “Love is patient, love is kind.” What if that passage was more a definitive statement about what love feels like, rather than a command on doing the right thing? I can assure you, I cannot command myself to be more patient. Have you ever tried this on any human? “Now be patient. Your time will come!” As if the mere logic will subdue the anguish of unresolved anticipation! Of course, it would be absolutely fabulous if my children (or myself) could learn greater patience, but I can assure, it will not be from me quoting a bible verse or shaming them into submission.
Children learn patience, when they know that you see their need and know their need will be met. They learn patience, when they have trust in you, the provider, the parent to work all things for their good. They do not learn patience when they feel unheard, unseen and belittled for their true and inner desires.
When wise grandparents assure you that “this too shall pass”, in the end it is never comforting because you are not looking for relief in the future, you are looking for guidance now. You don’t care that your 13 year old will unlikely try to cut her hair with cat nail clippers. You are concerned that she will do so again at the age of 3 after already mutilating her goldilocks weeks before her preschool photos. And of course if vanity weren’t your only concern, her lack of remorse or understanding that this isn’t allowed is a bit appalling. Can’t she do “all things through Christ who gives her strength?” I jest.
Parenting as they say, “is not for the faint of heart.” Of course, you know all of this, but for me the reality didn’t set in until I looked in the mirror and my first time pregnant body wasn’t modelesque but looked more akin to batman’s rival “The Penguin ” all tummy and a distinct waddle. And then my water birth plan was thrown out the window. Apparently, even my 15 years of babysitting and nannying couldn’t prepare my body for the onslaught of high blood pressure and the trauma of birthing a 4 lb baby who needed to be in a NICU for 9 days, and who was nearly impossible to teach how to breastfeed. With constant weight check ins, and lactation consultant appointments, and an infant who showed no sleep signals, my intro to babydom was an initial four months of chronic sleep deprivation for both of us– we were fragile and nearing exhaustion.
For most of us parenting patiently becomes what feels like a thousand deaths a day. This newborn insanity of needs upon needs that rolls in like the tide without concern if we are anchored or ready is the beginning of the storm that will onslaught our delicate sensibilities, our own needs for sleep and tests us to our core. Add another needy child or toddler to the mix and you got the makings of sainthood. And so it is no wonder that Mother God is the most patient of people, for she has birthed millions, she has cared for us all hours of everyday and has raised us and sustained us all. She’s carried the weight of our worries, shushed us to sleep and granted us one more cup of water until we lay our heads down to our final rest
And somewhere along the way we too gather endurance we didn’t think possible, abilities to function without 7 uninterrupted hours of sleep. Our hearts start to grow with love for something other than ourselves. We gain an inner strength- and a core that allows us to surf the never ending tide of parenting responsibilities and surf them with skills that on occasion, make it look like a cakewalk. But that doesn’t mean we don’t crash off the board from time to time or feel the endless paddling with waves unending or tidal waves that we can’t surmount.
But our Mother God has shown us the way. Parenting patiently doesn’t mean subduing our emotions and numbing them but in releasing them and learning to surf. Patience isn’t the opposite of desire, it is the riding of a wave of desire to its final destination.
This too shall pass isn’t patience, it’s grin your teeth and bare it– I want to ride it like the wave it is. I tally up some more daily deaths and I offer an ear, another cuddle, time for tucking in- sometimes with an eye roll or a sigh. I do my best to cut the toddlers hair into something resembling normal. Not ignoring the hard and the pure insanity of their needs or shaming my frustration. Maybe as a wise mother I too will put boundaries in place- this is your last request and then you’re on your own. Well not on your own, safe in the arms of your Mother God.
