today we did what i would call 'communal home church'. basically the expat kids came together at someones house to have a little kids sunday school as a change of pace from the large ugandan service/ and sunday school that we usually go to. i was excited. i figured, here it will be good. it will be quieter, organized, smaller, more manageable especially for the one child who is so easily overwhelmed. so i sat with zoe in a comfortable large leather chair ready to see how this new atmosphere would answer our sunday school problems. but. it didn't work that way.
why i'm continually surprised by this?
she interrupted. she wanted to tell the teacher random things about how to observe butterflies. she wanted to interject at every point when audience participation was sought, but there were 10 other kids. she wanted to already know the answers to every question asked. she became mad. she told me she needed to leave, as she fiddled with her 'engine helper' and i stroked her arm to help her calm. and this went on for the entire hour.
i was not calm. i was everything else. i didn't want to stroke her arm, i wanted to pinch her really hard because it felt like someone was pinching me inside. i was sad and angry and a little embarrassed, and hopeless, and scared.
we were learning about david. the great man of the old testament, the man after Gods own heart. the man who was a shepherd, and musician, and poet. the man who killed the giant with his slingshot, who became king. the man who messed up a lot, who slept with other peoples wives, and even killed their husbands, a man who knew he was wrong, who was deeply sorry, who asked for forgiveness and was forgiven by the God he loved passionately. a man who felt sad and mad and ashamed and scared.
so i muttered a little prayer of 'help' in my heart. help me because i'm scared. i'm so scared. i'm scared that this is her life life. that these obsessive, sticky thoughts will prevent her from living happily, from ever learning anything, from have healthy relationships, from growing, from connecting. i began having visions of a full grown zoe who can't leave her house, which is filthy and filled with disney toys and littlest petshop pets, and probably several animals that have been rescued but not treated for fleas. because i'm scared that she will be one of those people in the world who live on the fringe, that talk to themselves and are avoided, that are so overwhelmed by life that they shut down. and i'm so scared that i just don't have the tools to help her process the overwhelm, that instead i become eaten by it too.
it's hard when you see parts of your brokenness through the eyes of other people. it's hard when you're emotional underwear is sticking out for all to see. it's hard when you feel guilty about your fears, that they are symbols of giving up, of a lack of faith in her. so i try to step back. to not just see what's in front of me, but place it in the big context. when you analyze data you don't fall to bits over one data point, you wait, you trust that when all the points are gathered, the trends will be clear and there will be some outliers. but that requires emotional maturity which in these moments, i gravely lack. in these moments i only see a cat-lady who can't balance her check book, or get the temperature right for her shower, or peel a carrot, or unscrew a juice lid. and i feel the need to panic.
after it was over, and i was walking down the banana plant path, i had another little talk with God, but less desperate and more annoyed.
'really God? i thought we were kind of done with these days? these sticky thoughts? these intrusive thoughts that disrupted her life, my life, and the entire class.' that was it. i didn't have much more.
and there was nothing. just the sun hot and shinning down, just the soft wiggle of the tree branches in the wind, just the voice of the birds, just the white butterflies leading us home. God in the stillness. God in the cave with david. God in the big leather chair with me and zoe. God big enough to hear my 'help' and my annoyance. God in the whisper of the world around me. yet, that is somehow enough.
why i'm continually surprised by this?
she interrupted. she wanted to tell the teacher random things about how to observe butterflies. she wanted to interject at every point when audience participation was sought, but there were 10 other kids. she wanted to already know the answers to every question asked. she became mad. she told me she needed to leave, as she fiddled with her 'engine helper' and i stroked her arm to help her calm. and this went on for the entire hour.
i was not calm. i was everything else. i didn't want to stroke her arm, i wanted to pinch her really hard because it felt like someone was pinching me inside. i was sad and angry and a little embarrassed, and hopeless, and scared.
we were learning about david. the great man of the old testament, the man after Gods own heart. the man who was a shepherd, and musician, and poet. the man who killed the giant with his slingshot, who became king. the man who messed up a lot, who slept with other peoples wives, and even killed their husbands, a man who knew he was wrong, who was deeply sorry, who asked for forgiveness and was forgiven by the God he loved passionately. a man who felt sad and mad and ashamed and scared.
so i muttered a little prayer of 'help' in my heart. help me because i'm scared. i'm so scared. i'm scared that this is her life life. that these obsessive, sticky thoughts will prevent her from living happily, from ever learning anything, from have healthy relationships, from growing, from connecting. i began having visions of a full grown zoe who can't leave her house, which is filthy and filled with disney toys and littlest petshop pets, and probably several animals that have been rescued but not treated for fleas. because i'm scared that she will be one of those people in the world who live on the fringe, that talk to themselves and are avoided, that are so overwhelmed by life that they shut down. and i'm so scared that i just don't have the tools to help her process the overwhelm, that instead i become eaten by it too.
it's hard when you see parts of your brokenness through the eyes of other people. it's hard when you're emotional underwear is sticking out for all to see. it's hard when you feel guilty about your fears, that they are symbols of giving up, of a lack of faith in her. so i try to step back. to not just see what's in front of me, but place it in the big context. when you analyze data you don't fall to bits over one data point, you wait, you trust that when all the points are gathered, the trends will be clear and there will be some outliers. but that requires emotional maturity which in these moments, i gravely lack. in these moments i only see a cat-lady who can't balance her check book, or get the temperature right for her shower, or peel a carrot, or unscrew a juice lid. and i feel the need to panic.
after it was over, and i was walking down the banana plant path, i had another little talk with God, but less desperate and more annoyed.
'really God? i thought we were kind of done with these days? these sticky thoughts? these intrusive thoughts that disrupted her life, my life, and the entire class.' that was it. i didn't have much more.
and there was nothing. just the sun hot and shinning down, just the soft wiggle of the tree branches in the wind, just the voice of the birds, just the white butterflies leading us home. God in the stillness. God in the cave with david. God in the big leather chair with me and zoe. God big enough to hear my 'help' and my annoyance. God in the whisper of the world around me. yet, that is somehow enough.
3 comments:
He is enough and He always hears us.
Xo
E
But what good does it do if He hears you but noone else does? No teachersor friends and you are stuckas a parent trying to figure it all out! I imagine my son in college, ok who knows how he got in, but he doesnt make friends or eat lunch with anyone hetalks to himself.making strange noises. I think his teacher is bullying him. Or.that he is scared and anxious around her. I,ve already been to see the VP andcounselor. Doing an evaluation soon. Scared of what theymight find. Crying and praying for normal. Am i overreacting or Not overacting enough?
i'm sorry you're having such a hard time with your son. sounds like you are doing what you can for him- and that you care deeply. what is normal anyway? know that you are not alone, even when it feels that way- i guess that's what i meant about God whispering- sometimes it's through the voices of others, sometimes it's just the outside.
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