Met With Perfect Pleasure

He only splashed her. The rock didn't hit her, in fact the little boy wasn't aiming to hit her, he was just tossing the stones toward where she stood at the edge of the lake. That was enough for me to run and defend my two year old daughter. "She is just a little girl!" I yelled at him. "Don't throw those at her." The boy sulked away, clearly a taken aback by my response to his actions.
I was taken aback too. Perhaps I had overreacted to the situation, but what surprised me was the sheer force with which I leaped to defend my daughter. Until then I didn't realize I had it in me. But as a mother, that is what I have to do. Defend my weak, young, and defenseless children; be their advocate. And I hate doing it.
It is not the rock throwing situation that bothers me so much. It was an instinctual response actually. The advocacy that I hate having to do is speaking up my 5 year old son who has life threatening allergies and my two year old whose allergic responses have been mild but could get worse. My instinct is to avoid any or all situations where there will be food. But that is not always possible, nor what God is asking of me.
Take church for instance, we can't avoid attending, we are warned not to forsake the gathering of believers. But by going it puts me in the awkward situation of having to ask whether snacks are served. If they are, what are they? I may have to request that they not be served or that my son be removed from the class. In the nursery, I have to ask child care workers to make sure there are no baby bottles laying around. Yes, I've even had to ask that a baby have his bottle taken away. (My sons are allergic to dairy.) I risked a picnic in the park with some other moms a while back and one of them brought pizza. I had to pass out wet wipes and request that she clean up each of her four children's hands and faces before they went off to play with my son.
When we are invited out to dinner, I hate requesting that certain things not be served - like pizza and lasagna and ice cream cones. That the shredded cheese for tacos be left off the menu. That perhaps it would be best if milk was not served to drink. These foods are the most likely for cross contamination and all it takes is a little bit of the oils to cause an anaphylactic reaction in my son. (It has happened.) Once we had to rush my son to the hospital after sharing a bath with his cousin who'd been eating ice cream. So saying nothing is not an option. But I hate asking favours and asking others to make special accommodations.
It is not that the response of others is negative. Everyone has been positive and willing to help in any way. Most have been quite concerned. Some like the challenge of planning and preparing a dairy free meal - they have even found some great desert recipes which is hard to do. I have a couple friends who throw dairy free birthday parties.
But I hate asking. Why? PRIDE. Pride. I don't like needing the help of others and by having to act as my sons' advocate I am asking for help. And my proud heart fights it, my stomach ties in knots and I avoid the situations where I have to ask for help. I am stretched beyond my comfort zone and pushed into areas that are beyond my own control. I have to depend on and trust others. God in His kindness has given me this job of advocating for my sons so that my pride may be revealed and killed. It is a slow death.
"But God gives greater grace. Therefore He says, 'God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.'" (James 4:6) I am in need of His grace, I need to learn humility and so He has put me in the recurring situation of having to humble myself and ask for help. And He gives grace. I just have to look at the cross and see that Christ drank the bitter cup I deserve for my pride and now I can taste the sweetness of His loving kindness.

Posted by Melanie at 2:51 PM |