Stands for Other People's Kids and expresses frustration at the lack of or ill parenting said children receive and the negative consequences we all experience therefore.
As JuBe matures toward and beyond her 2nd birthday this Friday, we find ourselves bumping into these OPKs everywhere we go. From the Hippo Hopp to story time to the playground, they are swarming. Certainly not every other child we interact with is obnoxious and in need of a spanking, but the ones who are tarnish the title for all the rest.
For instance, at the Hippo Hopp last week J was climbing up the steps to slide down one of the inflatable slides when a line started to form behind her. And then right behind her. And then almost on top of her as one red-faced, bratty girl screamed at J, "You need to go faster! Hurry up!"
Whether it surprises you or not I have no way of knowing, but my blood reached boiling point in a hot second as I realized this little dweeb would give no thought to climbing over my JuBe if she took any longer. And so I snapped. Not viciously, not loudly, not hatefully. At least I hope not...
"Hey! She's smaller than you so you need to slow down, have some patience, and be kind!"
By then Juliet was thoroughly freaked out and slid down the ladder underneath the waiting OPKs to crawl out the entrance to me in tears.
Seething. Livid. Katie.
.JPG)
Yes, I did take this picture of Juilet and Sam today knowing that the situation would find its way to the blog.
Today we find ourselves at the sandbox alone when a freshly-turned 4-year-old arrives with her grandfather to play. A handful of sand toys live at the park these days, but today the majority were Juliet's toys, ones I eagerly encourage her to share because Jesus shares with us. So this OPK sits next to me for a few minutes, her name is Sam, and we talk about her birthday and her painted nails and whether or not Juliet is a baby.
When the conversation slows Sam asks me if I would like to build a sandcastle with her. If I am brutally honest, I had zero interest in doing this. Juliet has not hit that benchmark of sandbox discovery yet, and so I try to let her entertain herself as much as possible unless she brings me into play. I forget now how I skirted the issue, but Sam eventually lost interest and contented herself to play with our toys. Not a problem.
Until she starts to ask me to bring her our toys across the sandbox to where she's sitting. As I encourage Juliet to share with her and serve her, Sam gets bossier and bossier, hoarding our toys in the center of the sandbox, and chasing Juliet away from the toys with a snappy whine she had clearly practiced before.
All the while Grandpa is sitting behind me, not saying a word, possibly not even hearing a word of it, probably watching, definitely doing nothing.
And my temperature rises some more. And I cannot figure out how to coach Juliet through this coup d'etat of the sandbox.
"Ok, Lord, how do I handle this? How can I show love to this OPK? How should I help Juliet respond? Where is the gospel here? How do I teach Juliet to show grace while also assuring her that I am ultimately fighting for her? (If any moms want to chime in on this issue, please do!) Because right now I just don't care about Sam, though I can tell this is not an uncommon occurrence."
And as I realized that the feelings must only intensify exponentially when the child being wronged is your own, the weight of Jesus' crucifixion landed squarely on my heart and mind.
Father, how did you watch, allow, plan to subject Your Son to such treatment?
No matter what OPKs do, there is always sin in Juliet to be straightened out in any situation.
But what about Jesus? Deserving none of his mistreatment, contributing nothing to His guilt, how could You do that?
How could Your fiery wrath burn against His murderers and yet be consummated on His innocence?
It is no wonder You looked away. To see our sin, our rebellion, our self-worship, manifest in Your Son-became-sin must have been unbearable. Utterly devastating.
And so I don't have any pretty bow to wrap this up in, but let it bother me to gratitude daily. That my love for Juliet is so much less than You, Father, love Jesus. And that my hatred of sin is so diluted from Your's as holy.
Let me wrestle and come away changed each day by the sacrifice you made.
"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Corinthians 5:21
1 comment:
Love this post, K. I know J feels like she's almost your own child, but just wait until the first time someone hurts a child of your flesh. It will kill you. It will make you want to rip that person apart. It will turn you into the best and worst forms of yourself.
I've often wondered how God could allow it to happen to his son without reacting. I've often wondered how he could love so much, do deeply, so critically, as to let his son be wounded for me.
It's a beautiful, painful thought.
Post a Comment