Taken from a recent post from Alicia Guevara,
Sabrina drew the short straw last night. Last shower. And the sibs who went before her took loooong longity-long showers. The hot water was gone. But she needed a shower. She had spilled paint all over herself in art class, and I’m pretty sure she forgot deodorant yesterday. And so yes—she VERY reluctantly got in the shower—bracing herself for the cold.
“I’m putting it all the way on hot and it’s still FREEZING!!” I heard her shout-sob.
“Just scrub up quickly and be done—I’ll heat a towel up so it’s ready for you,” I replied and walked out. I can be a hardcore mom.
A few minutes later, I heard her muffled crying amidst the water flow. I rushed in as she said, “Please! Will you please just help me right now?!” Her voice wasn’t very loud, but I responded, “Were you needing your mama?”
“No. I’m talking to Jesus. I’m okay.”
Shower concluded. Warm towel and a hug, followed by stories. Most of the drama forgotten.
Except by me.
Top of my deepest hopes for my kids includes 1) That they love and follow Jesus—that they have their own relationship with him—not through me or Simon. Not forced by us—just their own.
And 2) That they suffer well. That’s right—suffer well. Top of my heart list for my kids does not focus on their happiness. Because happy and easy is so not guaranteed—while pain and suffering and aching in this world—IS. I want my kids to know how to suffer well, without giving up, without blaming and hiding, but enduring and growing in strength and character.
And to hear that little Juni voice calling out from the shower, “Please! Please help me!” Not for me or her papa. But for Jesus—gosh! My girl is banking on her Savior amidst her cold water pains. She wasn’t bolting or angry—she was hurting, and finding her true help. Where does my help come from? Where does my growing-up-baby girl’s help come from? The Lord. The Maker of heaven and earth.
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