Our new home in Norfolk was built in the 1950’s ish and has wooden floors that are beautiful…and loud. As I tried to walk down the creaking stairs this morning, I attempted to do so quietly as it was 5am and I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I did really well in my socks until I thought I hit the bottom. I was wrong. I slipped and fell hard landing on the edge of the final step straight on my coccyx and elbow. The sound was defining and echoed throughout our still empty house. I restrained my pained cry and walked it off as best I could thinking, “that’s gonna leave a mark!” That was not how I wanted to start my day.
We are trying to settle into a new normal and daily pattern after two months of a tiring transition. Barrett started his new job yesterday so I got the kids set up in their new school room to start our summer routine of brain maintenance. Going from months of crazy (and still not having our household goods) back to a school schedule did not go over well. I’ve spent most of my time trying to reteach character. We discussed how we practice loving God and our neighbor even in school and how that helps us keep friends that we’ve made. We role play and get interactive. I reiterate that dad and I want their good and really want them to have fun. Then I ask them to sing an answer to a question that was set to music. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. I’ll only add that I had two full days of this dance of me imploring them to see the big picture and them doing the opposite of what I asked. Then I fell down the stairs.
My mental and physical state was in pain but I wanted to take them to a story time at a library because we are in America! It’s in English and we understand it! Plus it has a craft and since we have nothing, it was fun for the kids to make something. So I broken heartedly got into the car and pontificated that my kids will never get it. They’ll never trust that I want their good and not misery. I’m sure I’m not alone in this drastic conclusive jump that feels hopeless.
We managed to make a new friend (by God’s grace) while we put together the life cycle of a chicken. Then we headed back home to lunch where Barrett joined us (remember, a 5 minute walk!) and he could tell I was bummed. I didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully he was OK with that. After lunch we had to go check in with the new pediatrician so off we went in the car again. The kids were really reserved as they could tell something was wrong with me. I couldn’t shake off the funk from the still constant blatant disobedience of simple things I asked. I knew the Godly thing would be to give grace and not take it so seriously but I chose to stay in my funk. The Peds office said it would take a while for them to copy all the paperwork and asked if I wanted to stay or come back. “Is there a Trader Joe’s nearby?” They looked at me with surprise and said, “Yes, a mile over there!” I got a tinge of happiness upon hearing that. “I’ll be back!” They smiled as I left.
I didn’t grow up with a Trader’s Joe’s. It’s been a recent add to my life. The only other time I have been there was when we evacuated for Maria. Since I lived in a hotel with the kids, Trader Joe’s had a lot to offer that could be made in a pan, microwave, or toaster oven. So I became friends with the staff and they loved on my kids. This time was no exception. Annabelle noticed the flowers as we went in and said, “look mom, they are so pretty!” I agreed and we commenced shopping. We got to the checkout and she asked if I had my own bags. “Yes, but they haven’t got here yet. They are still in our shipment that’s taken two months to get here!” I tend to overshare. She engaged in the conversation like an old friend and as she checked me out, she walked over to the flowers and picked up the very ones that Annabelle pointed out, cut off the price, gave them to me and said, “welcome to the neighborhood!” I teared up…well…I managed to get my sunglasses on and to the car before that happened.
“Wow, kids, that was so kind. The Lord was so kind to send that encouragement, wasn’t He?” I preached to myself. I don’t think it’s right for me to wallow in my sorrow. I don’t think it’s right for me to make my kids behavior the determinate of my happiness. But as I tell my kids, my love for them is not contingent on if they obey or don’t obey. It’s because they are mine! It’s not based on behavior, it’s based on identity. The Lord reminded me of that very truth through the kindness of an check out woman at Trader Joe’s.