Things as they really are

On Easter Sunday, I took Amalie and Gabe to church, while Brad stayed home with our little sickie, Noah.  The primary children were scheduled to sing that day, and I had a stack of papers with the words to the songs they were to sing, waiting to pass them out to the children when it was time.

Amalie asked for a paper, and practiced the songs, singing them softly to me.  She sounded just beautiful.  When it was time for the primary children to sing, I rushed up, Amalie and Gabe following me.  For some reason, Amalie didn't go up on the stage immediately and by the time I had passed out papers to the other children, I encouraged her to go up.  I don't know if she was overwhelmed at that point since all the children were up on stage, but she refused, even after my friend tried to encourage her as well.  She finally seemed like she was going to go and then she hung back.  I sat in the front row, ready to help the children.  Amalie clung to me, trying to talk to me while I helped lead the children through the songs.  The more she clung and tried to talk to me, the more frustrated I got.  She wasn't doing what she was supposed to do, and now she was trying to stop me from doing my assignment.  By the time we got back to our seats, Amalie was really upset.  She wouldn't stop leaning on me, and physically pressing her weight on me.  She started complaining as soon as we sat down in our seats. 
"Mom, I didn't get to sing."
I was so annoyed by this point and feeling that she was trying to place the blame on me, frankly replied, "Amalie, you were given many opportunities to sing.  If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at yourself."

Immediately as the words came out, I realized how harsh they were.  I tried to correct, but in my frustration, didn't help the situation.  "Amalie, the best thing you can do at this point, is vow to never let it happen again."

At this point, Amalie was frustrated as well, and wouldn't listen.  She lay down on the pew and covered her face.  I started listening to the speaker, and then looked over later, to see her covering her face, tears in her eyes.  I felt awful for being so unkind.  I nudged her leg, but she was too upset with me at that point to let me comfort her.

By the time the meeting was almost over she had scooted closer to me, and I stroked her hair.  She complained that she didn't feel well; she had a headache and her tummy hurt.  Because Noah had been throwing up all through the night, I wanted to take her somewhat serious, but it seemed a little too convenient for her to skip going to primary because she was embarrassed.

Later on that day, when it was proven that she actually was sick, Brad and I took a walk.  As we talked, I expressed my frustration that in situations like these, I am so close to the situation, I don't see clearly and often feel that I don't handle things the way I would like to.

I remarked that maybe, Amalie was simply mad at herself and was looking to me for some consolation that she was still a good person.  Amalie is much like me in that she tries so hard to do what is right, she is absolutely devastated when she makes a mistake. Brad commented that was probably it.  I was grateful that he let me talk it out, as I usually find a solution just by talking it through.  I ended by saying, "I think I just need to pray to see things as they really are."

It was funny how quickly that prayer was answered.  The next night, while I finished making dinner and was trying to help Ami make dessert for FHE, I started to feel extremely nauseous.  Feeling like I was catching what the kids had, I laid down on the couch, feeling awful.  It took the kids a little while to understand that I couldn't help them and I really couldn't even carry on a conversation.  Amalie didn't quite understand why I couldn't help her finish up her dessert. 

Thankfully Brad came home from work shortly thereafter and took over.  I laid on the couch, listening to the dinner time hustle and bustle, which seemed a lot mellower than usual.  Brad helped the children get their food.  I closed my eyes, listening to the dinner time conversation. I smiled as I listened to Amalie and Noah give Brad a play-by-play of the show they'd watched earlier.  I relished listening to brother and sister laughing together and happily recounting a fun show.  I watched as Amalie tromped after Brad, as he helped her make the dessert, never wavering from his side.  She seemed so happy.  I watched as Gabe and Noah brought cushions down and jumped on them, collapsing into giggles.  It was absolutely therapeutic.  It was so enjoyable to be an observer - I could see my children so vividly.  It was clear to see what wonderful, delightful children I have.  

Recently, someone asked me about my kids, and I reluctantly said, "They're pretty good," my thoughts full of the daily frustrations. My sister interjected with, "I know her kids, and they are awesome!"

That hit me very powerfully.  I sometimes expect perfection out of these little ones so much that I overlook how truly good and kind and wonderful they are.  Often, I have a laser focus on the things I feel they need to change, while taking for granted the great choices they make every single day.

I know that is not how our Heavenly Father parents us. I know, because I have often felt His loving encouragement when I make the tiniest amount of progress.  I have felt His celebration of my progress and my good choices.  And I have quickly felt His forgiveness when I sincerely repent.  I must follow that example.  I know I will have all too many regrets if I don't.  I will continue to pray for the gift to see - to see my children as they really are and for what they can become.  And I will celebrate their victories with them, no matter how small.