These are Elizabeth's favorite words right now. I hear her saying them even when she's in her bedroom playing all by herself. We went to Houston last weekend and she said them for about an hour and a half, constantly. I didn't really understand why she was saying them. I don't know if she's mad at me, or . if she's only repeating back--in the EXACT same tone of voice--what she's heard me say too many times: "No, Elizabeth. We don't hit people." or "No, no. We just put your shoes and socks on. Please don't take them off." or "No, Elizabeth. We don't draw on the coffee table." or "No, Elizabeth. Don't touch the treadmill. You could get hurt."
I guess she doesn't like being told no. I mean, who really does like being told no? We all have different ways of dealing with this answer (that we rarely want to hear). Wouldn't we all really like to be given the Ok to behave like a toddler every once in a while: no holds bar. We could throw ourselves on the ground in frustration, or mischievously walk up to the treadmill and hang from the railing in defiance, or run and scream and pound on the wall, all of which Elizabeth does--without abashment, with reckless abandonment, and with true force. Sometimes I want to throw a fit, that's for sure. When I don't get an article accepted in a journal, I want to cry. Or when a friend gently rebukes me, my pride sometimes gets in the way from hearing their sweet spirit. Or when God tells me "no" about something I think I wanted, I want to raise my hands in the air and yell, "But why not, God?" But instead of these expressions, I usually hold back my emotions, not wanting to get too caught up in these moments, these emotions, because then I will have to deal with my own inability to accept the answer "no." Perhaps I can learn something from my little toddler about expressing myself, perhaps not in the same way that she does--although I respect that reckless abandonment and honest spirit--but in the need to express myself at all, to express my reactions to life's disappointments, to react and respond, in a loving way, about my insecurities and fears. What a lesson my child is for me. She's already started saying, "I sorry, Mommy," and "Me obey." Thank you, God, for grace and forgiveness and the beautiful, pure, and HONEST heart of my child who daily teaches me about your grace and your truths.
I hope you're having a wonderful day.
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2 years ago
1 comment:
Elizabeth delights my soul, and that isn't JUST Granna Talk. The way she runs headlong into life, gobbles up every experience, acts and reacts boldly and with purpose, and automatically assumes that if she is doing it, it IS the RIGHT way--every piece of it reminds me of another little toddler (who in SOME ways hasn't changed all that much)--her dad. As his mom, he both fascinated and frustrated me. I think I worried and prayed over every inch of his colorful and determined strong will. Both Kara (and yes, even Shane's mom sees plenty in Elizabeth that is a replica of her lovely mom) and Shane have been blessed with a maturity in parenting that extends beyond their experiences. I don't worry about Elizabeth, though I do pray for her. Standing on this side of her dad's growing up years, I now look back at the things that baffled me or even worried me, and I see exactly what God had in mind. And, if it didn't mean that the years would slip by too quickly, I would say that I can't wait to see our little Elizabeth--as the full-blown image of His masterful design.
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