Playing with Juliet these days is, overall, an exciting and entertaining activity. Hardly "work". She is learning new things every single day, and it is a blast to watch her up close.
I realized though that sometimes the best thing for her is for me to not help. Does she like this option? Not quite. But let me explain.
Crawling is the current task at hand. She can crawl backward but not forward, which is a start, but a frustrating one at that. I get a little excited every time her toys get out of reach because I hope this will be the time that she figures it out, that she raises up on her knees, coordinates their forward progress with that of her arms, and inches or even centimeters closer to what she wants.
Unfortunately that has not yet happened successfully. Quite the opposite, actually.
When toys are out of reach she responds in a very particular way. She studies them intently, focusing all her attention and effort on the object she wants most, she furrows her brow and tenses her muscles, and she puts all of her energy into very purposeful movement. However, despite the grand effort forward, the energy pushes her further away from what she wanted.
This is followed by a whimper of frustration and either another attempt, a diversion, or a break-down of gigantic proportions.
At this point I have several options.
I can let her keep trying, despite the momentary frustration, to hone her crawling skills by trial and error.
Or I can give her the toy she wants.
Most of the time, the most loving response is actually to let her cry through the exploration of her abilities and limitations. If I were to give her the toy every time, which is actually a more pleasant experience for me, she would never learn to crawl. She would think of me only as the person who entertains her, who fixes her problems, who fulfills her whims. Clearly this would not be an accurate view of reality, and if it were, we would have an even bigger issue. No one in her life should cater to this role.
In reality, when I am more focused on myself and how I feel, I am much more likely to intervene in her frustration for my own peace of mind. If I have a headache or would rather not have to pay close attention, it suits me much more pleasantly to shuffle in a new diversion the moment one loses its appeal.
Interestingly enough, though it may seem that I do not care about what she wants or how she feels, the most loving thing for me to do is to sit back and allow her to explore on her own. This does not mean that I am not protecting her; I certainly safeguard her wriggling to maintain a safe distance between her head and the corners of the walls and coffee table. This does not mean that I am not paying attention to her; my view of the situation is actually much more complete than her own.
My perspective, protection and patience actually help her learn and grow and develop despite the seemingly inactive role they sometimes produce. A few tears now will push her toward a much more enabled and fulfilling existence in just a short while.
Today I am grateful for the Lord's love that allows me to cry.
He is not my entertainer. Praise Him.
He is not the fixer of my problems. Praise Him.
He is not the fulfiller of my whims. Praise Him.
He is the Author and Perfecter of my faith. Praise Him.
He is the Creator of newness in my heart. Praise Him.
He is the Savior who has given the best and withholds no good thing. Praise Him.
One year ago my life was characterized by frequent bouts of crying for jobs and relationships and success on my terms, by my means, for my satisfaction and on my timeline.
This year the Lord has given me a glimpse of the perspective He has on my life, and I see that all those days I spent in tears before Him whimpering "why?" between sobs were not evidence of pointlessness, abandonment or disapproval. He was here, all along, protecting, paying attention, planning.
He is the One who works all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. His purpose is that I look more like Christ. And so He allows my tears to flow. Purifying tears that carry with them the shackles of sin and self-delight.
To have a heart more like Jesus', let me cry daily. Gratitude.
