The seasons are changing...and so are the sizes of my 4 children...all at once, of course. Which as any mom knows means the clothing must change too. We are sooooo blessed to receive generous tubs of hand-me-downs for our oldest girl, which I keep for the little one and it seems that as soon as I pack one size up I am unpacking it again for the baby. They are like weeds!
As I was folding up some of my favorite pink outfits and little princess dresses, I felt a tug at my heart. That sentimental nudge to hold on to this moment and never let them grow, to squish her little body back into the puffy tutu with polka-dot tights and leave the tub empty, waiting for another day to pack it all up. I think I may have even gotten a little misty! Over clothes!!!!
Now of course I know it wasn't really the clothes...it was the reality those clothes represented: my baby is growing up, not even a toddler, but a little girl. (Fortunately there is another close behind so I get to see those sweet outfits again soon.) I instructed myself to straighten up and get the job done, but the internal battle wasn't going so well and sure enough real tears did fall.
Then, I heard a quiet whisper, a gentle plea . . . it was my God. He reminded me, in that moment, that these precious babes are not my own, but His. His blessings, granted to us for a time, with a responsibility far greater than I will every truly understand. His gifts.
"Leave them in My hands," I heard the soft Voice say.
So I began to pray for my girls as I folded and packed clothes now too small and lined the drawers with the beautiful things passed on to us.
I prayed over each little shirt as it found it's new home on a small pink hanger, that the day it is worn she would seek to obey.
I prayed over each zip-up-footie pajama (my favorite), that the night she sleeps snug inside it would bring her peaceful rest.
I prayed over the darling dresses with matching stockings, that the Sunday it enters our church doors on her growing frame her heart would be soft to hear the Word.
Yes, it took a little longer to switch out wardrobes this year . . . but I am so grateful for the reminder of my gentle Father. He stilled my heart and holds my children close to His own . . . a safer place than I could ever provide.
Now , for the laundry . . . (and the boys)
Yup! My toes are painted...not just the nails...toes too. Aren't they beautiful?!?!
Now before you sign me up for lessons at the local beauty school, let me share the story. My sweet two year old princess has an obsession with everything pink, and when this magenta polish appeared during a evening at my sister's she was all over it. With her coy little voice she gingerly carried the bottle to me and pleaded, "Mommy, can I do this to your toes?" That question should have been a dead giveaway to the finished result, but, of course, I replied with an emphatic yes.
She carefully dunked the brush into the bottle over and over, reminding be to "Be still, Mommy!" before applying each pointed stroke. The glops of excess polish pooled against my skin and I couldn't help but smile as she admired her work. "All done! Mommy, they look pretty!" I thanked her with a squeeze and kiss and quickly distracted her before my fingers were spotted next.
When her daddy saw them the next morning, he asked me if I was bleeding or if I let someone do my nails. I nodded towards our little bouncing blonde and he called her to his side. "Did you do Mommy's nails?" Boisterous nod and a smile big enough to reveal those budding molars. "They are so pretty, sweetie!" She beamed. Her Daddy approved, shared her JOY, and she could not have been happier.
My husband's kind face was red as he held back the laugh just begging to emerge at the hilarious site of my feet. He was exercising something we recently learned in a parenting class we are participating in: the invaluable act of matching the JOY on our little ones face with our response to them.
He watched his daughter’s expression light up and he met that excitement with equal exuberance. That effort affirmed her little heart, placing there a tangible marker of her Daddy’s love and approval and preparing it for her Heavenly Father’s touch.
While so often our instinctual responses to our children are completely warranted (gasping at the large frog just whipped out of a pocket, grimacing at the tenderly formed mud pie dripping on clean floors, demanding back the glass flower vase carrying prized bugs just captured for family show-and-tell), they all too frequently steal our children’s JOY, rob them of their excitement, and cast away their innocent desire to please us. And their faces will tell the story as eyes instantly fall and glee-filled smiles slip into devastated pouts. My heart aches at the thought of causing anyone of my children to feel this way, but sadly, I know this scene all too well.
Ephesians 4:29 says, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”
I think we usually apply this verse to our adult relationships…but it could not be more fitting for our children as well. So let’s build them up with our words, with our expressions, and with a youthful JOY that matches their own.
So moms, grandmas, aunties, and babysitters…let those toes be painted and wear them proudly! Little hearts are eager…
