There are frayed edges of motherhood that aren’t often talked about. Those places where we’re holding onto our temper with one hand and the belief that things have got to get better eventually with the other.
One night that place rocks me hard as I rock my baby girl in one arm and cell phone cradled between cheek and ear with the other. I kick gently back and forth, back and forth between my quiet confession whispered into the listening ear of my mother-in-law and the loud ache in my gut at what I share with her.
Sometimes I am scared of my three-year-old son.
The one whose name means “gift from God.” The one named after the apostle who was Christ’s rock. I think of him as our bulldozer. Our passionate compassionate child of temper so fierce we catch echoes of his berserker ancestors on an otherwise ordinary Friday afternoon in Virginia when I’m scared of what mood he’ll be in when I pick him up from preschool.
Scared how he’ll react if he gets the blue cereal bowl instead of the red one, scared what he’ll do if we can’t find the Woolworths Teddy Bear come bed time or nap time or car ride time or any old time when he needs it.
He can storm harder and longer than my temper can usually take.
I am tattered and frayed and frightened of how I am starting to feel about him. Worried that I can’t find the necessary reserves of love to remember to like him. I simply want to mute him.
So I rock and whisper my secrets into the phone over the baby’s whispy soft hair and the dark room cocoons both of us. My mother-in-law suggests we go back to the beginning. We trace family trees and genes and remember that blue eyes aren’t the only things children inherit by blood. I stop being mad at him and instead start to research him.
I study my son.
And God starts to show me how to see. Not with a magnifying glass, but a mirror.
I see my own temper. I see generations of temper before that. I see how lazy my prayers are and how haphazard my approach to helping him. How it’s mostly a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.
I see how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed him.
I begin to exercise my motherhood again. I stretch and bend and pray. I fast and pay attention and listen. Instead of floundering in the stories everyone else tells me about him, I begin to draft his narrative. I write it down. How I want to see this son of mine. How I want to teach others to see him.
I send these words to his teacher,
We so appreciate your partnership. We value Micah and the work that Christ is doing in his heart. He is extremely sensitive to the stories of Jesus and understands that his name means, “Like unto God” and his second name means “the rock”.
We are encouraging him to be a man who lives in the blessing of his name and is a leader and encourager and protector of others.
I begin to sense Micah growing in my heart with flutters much like when I first felt him moving in my belly. I cradle this new story. It is a relief to be writing it again and not just turning the pages terrified of what comes next.
I pray for him more in one month than perhaps the rest of his months combined.
I pray and praying is writing and writing is realizing and realizing is seeing. I see the story God has for my Micah.
I speak it out loud over him.
Sometimes, in the beginning, when I am still finding the words, only when he’s asleep. And when he wakes up and asks me what I’m doing I’m too embarrassed to tell him. I start to make something up, to say I was just checking on him. But then I catch myself and I give the truth to his sleep-grogged ears straight, “I am praying for you. I am praying you will be a great warrior for God’s Kingdom.”
He yawns, whispers, “OK,” rolls over.
As I stare at the back of his sleep matted hair. As I listen to him start to snore gently and count the seven, eight, nine stuffed animals surrounding him. As I wonder how he even fits into that bed with all the swords, pliers and puppies clamoring for space alongside I catch something unexpected.
My stomach aches with a tender like for this son of mine.
I like that this is how he chooses to sleep.
I like how it so perfectly illustrates his compassion for all living things.
I like how his big, clumsy limbs that he is still growing into are draped diagonally across the bunk.
I like that the radio’s on because he was dancing for me just before going to bed.
I like how he sleeps in the same position as his dad and how he thrives on the same routine every night.
I like the glass of water he always asks for and keeps close to his bed just like me.
I like the discarded book on dinosaurs he was reading and the pen and note pad he always has under his pillow.
I like him so much I can hardly breathe. I just sit in that room between a toy tiger and the radio softly playing and stroke the sweaty forehead of a nearly four-year-old and let the like keep filling me up.
All the way to overflowing.
::
This is an excerpt from my book, Surprised by Motherhood – it comes out in one week and you can pre-order right here.
Or download the first three chapters for free over here.
This really hit me in the gut. Thank you for the loving honesty that went into this post. I wept.
I have one of these children too–fierce temper, never sure what mood she is going to be in. For a long time I felt like I was the only one. Everyone else’s children seemed so easy compared to mine. We don’t talk about our struggles because we fear being judged as parents. We hide it or dismiss it or are scared to tell others about it.
I’m finally learning: it’s better to bring it into the light, encouraging one another on the journey, and learning to love and delight in these children who are God’s creation.
Thanks for being real and sharing these feelings.
Wisdom right there! Thankful for your MIL…may I be like her in the lives of my D’sIL!
YES!!! A million times, yes. This is the work of motherhood. In the midst of all the other. You have captured it in such an awesome way. This is what we need to model, teach, speak, into the lives of the mothers around us. How it saves us in our mothering, but more than anything, saves our children in our mothering. We have the power to speak truth into our kid’s lives-truth of who God created them to be, how amazing the gifts he has designed into them. To look into their little eyes and tell them strong and true, just how amazing they are. And to pray like only a mother can. God gave us that privilege that can feel like an overwhelming, unending burden. But privilege it is, a tremendous gift. Oh Lord, don’t let us treat it with anything less than what it deserves.
I LOVE 4 year olds! I think it is one of the most wonderful ages….they have outgrown those “terrible twos” that people talk about and that I found was more like the “terrible threes” and then, suddenly, overnight…they are the most precious and loving children in the world! The only age I enjoyed more with my children was when they were 7…you have that to look forward to. God bless you Lisa-Jo as you find that it really does depend more on your attitude than it does on the kid’s attitude.
I’m sure you’ve posted this before? I remember, because it came at a perfect time for me and my little boy who struggles with anger (now almost 7) who’s names mean ‘soldier’, ‘merciful’ and ‘protector’. Such an encouragement. so for then, and now, Thankyou! and thanks to God for creating such amazing and strong little boys!
I hope all goes well with your book release :)
Yes I did. And it ended up becoming a whole chapter in my book. The process has meant so much to me.
I’d been thinking about getting your book on kindle. This post convinced me. :) love your honest and encouraging writing. God bless.
Thank you so much for writing about this. I have a similar experience with a son of mine. My heart resonated so deeply with your words and this shared experience. I know this will be an encouragement to so many other moms. Thank you for writing about the scary parts of motherhood that we don’t even want to admit to ourselves sometimes.
Oh my. These words were real for me today. Our oldest is very similar – and I’m often very careful about what I say/do in fear of how he will react. The Lord spoke through you to me today. Thank you.
LOVE this. Thank you so much for sharing, and for reminding me of the power of prayer in our children’s lives. Someone told me when I was pregnant with my son to always tell him that I love him, but always tell him that I LIKE him too. This advice rings so true to me now as I see how my 6 year-old son’s face lights up when I tell him how much I LIKE him and ENJOY him. Thank you so much for this reminder!!
It’s hard to even type with this lump in my throat and tears pouring down my cheeks. All my heart can eek out in this moment is thank you. Thank you, sweet sister. Thank you, faithful God. Your words, Lisa-Jo, your journey, is not just for you and your boy. Know that.
This was like watching a master painter work, tears rolling down cheeks and beauty emerging, first in pastels and then fiery jewel tones on the canvas.
So you go and share these words today on here and I read them last night in those pages of Surprised by Motherhood…and they grip me. And I weep and the knot in my gut is twisting and I know these words are for me. And evidently for a few others that have commented. And probably for hundreds more. There’s comfort in misery. Knowing I’m not the only mother who has fought and is fighting this temper demon. And then the grace part. Where you make the choice to make a change in your own heart and mind to change your son’s destiny. This is what I’m drawing strength from. You are doing it. Have done it. It’s possible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your story. That is also our story. And for the comfort in that. xoxo
This may be my favorite post of yours, ever!
I have that son, my only child whose temper flames, followed quickly by tears, then some love and it’s a huge, tiring circle. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for like when you are on pins and needles.
God has brought me on a similar journey, looking at who he is, where he has come from and ultimately who He is. God is faithful and though the circle continues, there is a softness now that wasn’t there before.
Thank you for sharing this so honestly, it isn’t an easy thing to admit. But we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony!
Thank you for sharing your rough motherhood places with us, Lisa Jo, and how God has redeemed them. He is using your stories to bring redemption in mamas all over the world! When you first posted about this, I was in a similar place with my almost-4-year-old, and also had a baby. And thanks to your story, and God’s convicting, I like that boy so deeply (most days) now. I’m learning to speak truth over him, and to remember truth in my heart — and God has brought so much joy. So excited for your book to arrive in my mailbox!!
Oh my. I have one of those children too, and I respond as you did. Right now is one of our lowest points. You have helped point me in the right direction. Thank you.
I think I need to read that whole chapter!
Yes, Yes, Yes…
Honest. And vulnerable. God is faithful and your son will be used by Him. What a role you play in that!!!
Love the honesty in this post. Thank you for sharing! Preordered my book..can’t wait to read it!
If this is from your book…does that mean I will need tissues for all the rest of it as well? :) can’t wait for it’s arrival soooon!
Thank you Lisa-Jo… Somehow I have shamed myself into thinking I was the only one with these feelings about my most beautiful girl, and somehow I have been thinking I’ve ruined it/her after only 4 years… I can’t tell you how happy I am to know that the flutters of the tummy come back, and I can fall back in like (to start). I have been feeling so defeated lately that I haven’t even been praying about it (mistake #1) I will start to pray over her again tonight, and after a great “in this together” talk with my MIL last night, I am going to be a new mommy today. Thank you again for your wisdom and understanding of things that are so hard for some of us to put into words…
Wow! I needed this reminder today. Why am I so quick to get angry and so slow to pray? I need to remember to pray before I speak to my children, especially if I am upset. I am looking forward to reading your book.
This was so beautifully raw and real. I too, have a four year old son like that, and I too have struggled with the same anger, frustration, and dislike. Thank you for sharing this, I cried as I remembered all of my similar struggles. Prayer and asking God to show us how He sees our children is so powerful. In the fall when my husband and I were at our wits end, and after seeking advice from our Pastor we began to do two simple things: change what we said about him and pray. Our son’s name also means “loyal defender”, so we began to speak and pray compassion and obedience over him. We also began to teach him to come to an adult when he felt angry so that we could fix the problem rather than him responding in anger (until he is better equipped to handle the anger). It was absolutely amazing the turn-around in his life, to the point that his teachers even commented on his change in behavior. I applaud you for being brave enough to share your struggles Lisa-Jo. As we continue to look to our Heavenly Father for His perspective, we will continue to be better equipped to raise our children to be all that He has created them to be, and to fall more in love…and like…with them. ♥
Perfect!
I have a just-turned-four-years old son named after the disciple Jesus called a rock. And oh, how familiar the scenario of needing things just exactly so, of rages and shrieks. (Wait, did you say he shrieked? Mine does.) But he is learning, and such a charming, loving bundle of boundless energy and enthusiasm. I am grateful to God for him, although at times I struggle not to fear his capricious moods or with knowing how to handle his instantaneous prejudice against whatever I happen to be serving for lunch. It’s such a journey, at times, with unexpected bends in the road that must be navigated with only enough light for the next step – and even that only when I get on my knees and plead for it! Thank you for sharing your struggle with these issues as well. May God bless you.
This is exactly right: “I cradle this new story. It is a relief to be writing it again and not just turning the pages terrified of what comes next.”
I love that image of writing the story for our kids – setting the scene and giving framework to our lives together, instead of letting it be dictated by an outsider. I feel I’m always doing that with my little cross-cultural kids. Telling them how brave they were in a new situation, how impressed I am by the words they’ve learned. Recasting their “otherness” in a positive light. Thanks for the encouragement here.
(And now I need to get my hands on your book!)
Lisa, this took my breath away…how beautiful and honest your writing is. What an inspiration to so many! Can’t wait to read your book.
Thank you. I needed that.
Beautiful! I feel silly responding to your deep, God-breathed words with a very temporal sentiment, but can I just say that three years old is really just HARD. When you don’t know whether they’ll freak out at the red cereal bowl or the blue one this morning… that’s three years old. My oldest is four now, and if yours is anything like mine, you’ll find four years old SO REFRESHING. Just a little note of encouragement that it gets easier to like them very soon. :)
I have a feeling you are dealing with something fairly extreme. I can relate. What you wrote was beautiful and needed. I will use it in my own life with our own struggles as I feel so fainthearted sometimes with our own particular path.
I wanted to separately encourage you to continue looking for resources. I have my own story to share and it’s because of that story that I offer this resource idea. So without actually sharing the story (it’s not fully mine to tell), I would suggest you take a look at the resource, Collaborative Problem Solving. http://www.livesinthebalance.org/ Every child is different. So many “more typical” children don’t need different approaches. What you’re describing isn’t “three years old” as some say. When you describe the fear of picking him up or approaching another part of your day with him, I see something else. I want to encourage you that you are correct in assuming that this is not a typical parenting experience. You are gifted beyond measure to deal with this and to even have a platform for sharing how to go about it. The book, The Explosive Child, has been helping our family. It’s a very different approach and does not assume a faith-based approach to life. But it has given us tools that we have needed. I just said a prayer for you as you walk this road. You are walking it beautifully. Feel free to email me for other thoughts.
Oh, Lisa-Jo. This caught me in the throat with a tear in my eye. I went through a season like this with my son not long ago(who just turned 4) and am now having ups and downs with my daughter (2yrs) who is our fierce one (when. every. single. thing. is. a. hill. to. die. on.) I completely understand. Utterly. I found the answer like you did. To Fall in Like with my kids again. And yes, see my and my husband’s stubbornness in them both! (ha!) I also now believe that we will need to Fall in Like with our kids over and over and over again. As we do our spouses. Right now our youngest turns 1 and we have another due in June. With our genes, you bet each one will be stubborn! lol
Thanks so much for sharing,
Sarah
This couldn’t have come at a more timely moment for me. I have a four year old daughter who I daily struggle to like, and then daily feel remorse and shame for feeling that way! At 2 1/2 I would tell myself this is just a phase. Now almost two years later, I feel that I just have a challenging child on my hands, but then I feel guilty for “labeling” her and wondering how much my own judgment has begun to affect her and cause her to act the way I expect, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. And yes, as you mentioned, I wonder how much of her own temper is a mirror of mine. I cringe to look too long in the mirror. I feel like every day I try to start anew, and before breakfast I’m back to the same point, praying for patience.
This was very encouraging to me. I read it several days ago but just got to commenting now (4 kids 5 and under!). This might not be a relevant thought to you at all but my 2nd 4 year old was emotionally out of control until we happened to take the whole family gluten free because of the toddler’s intolerance. The 4 year old transformed. From the child who could wail and sob for 2 hours about the wrong color cup to saying: “did you know I like purple better? Oh well, it still has juice in it,” and walking away. Knock me over with a feather! I know everyone think GF is a fad and I wouldn’t have known food intolerances could affect the emotions so much if I hadn’t seen it first hand. Just fwiw. :)
Either way, the concept in this post is very relevant for every child in their phases!!
as the new step-mom of a 7 year old, I cannot relate to carrying a child in my body and then watching him grow outside of me. and we have fully established that I am not his mom because he already has one of those. I’m more of a bonus mentor in his life. but I can most definitely relate to falling in like with this child. thank you for expressing it in such a beautiful, raw form.