Every once in a while Owen decides he would rather not take a nap. On these days I notice the high energy, the gleam in his eyes, the way he giggles at everything he does. I wait it out a bit, hoping he will get some of that spunk out. Slowly, the situation starts to unravel, he pushes limits a bit more, and instead of tiring himself out I find him picking up speed. It is at that time I have to intervene. I lay down with my little boy who was just giggling, but now furious. He fights the arms that attempt to cradle and snuggle. He pays no heed to words meant to soothe. He does his best to wiggle away. He gets mad and he cries. He wants his own way so badly. I know it would be easier to just let him get up and run free. But I stick it out, knowing how much he needs this nap. I know what is best for him.
Always, at this point I find myself so sad, if he would just give in, acquiesce that stubborn little will of his, he would see how tired he is, how I'm doing what is best for him by making him lay down. I think of myself and my heavenly Father, how far too often I am the crying wiggling toddler intent on my own way. How often I fight Him because I have a better plan. And how sad He must be to see me flail around, a big ol' mess, when I could just be doing it His way.
My heart is grieved as I think these thoughts, meanwhile Owen calms. He snuggles up next to me and his breathing evens out. I wait a minute or two, and slip out of the room, leaving him sleeping peacefully, thinking "See how easy that could have been, little one."
And realizing God probably thinks the same toward me.
Seasons (and the need of the moment)
3 weeks ago