Yesterday Norah was woken up from her nap by (one of) Eevee’s ferocious barking fits. She was GRUMPY. I actually was surprised at how genuinely grumpy she was. Usually she perks up if I just hold her for awhile, but not yesterday. She was a monster in a cute body.
Micah tried to cheer her up. It was so sweet to see his intention. Norah didn’t catch on, though, and she responded with a serious screaming fit at him. I mean, wow. The look on Micah’s face when she screamed at him was so so sad. Hurt, confusion, sheer sadness that he was sweetly trying to be kind and do something to cheer her up, but she refused it. Rejection.
Oh, my heart! To witness my son’s first conscious experience with rejection made me want to break down and cry with him. To cover that little head and smooth over that wound and hide him so it never happens again. To wipe those tears from his face and his future. To take on his pain forever so he won’t have to feel it, even once more. Such a small instance, but I would gladly step into his heart and take the bullet for every rejection or hurtful moment ever fired at him for the rest of his life.
“it’s ok, Micah. You are a really good helper. Norah isn’t trying to hurt your feelings. She’s just really grumpy today. ”
“yes, mommy. Norah’s just really grumpy.”
Then he was ok. I may have felt that moment stronger than he did, but boy, it was a doosey. Times like these are overwhelming because I’m reminded just how big my job is and how little time I have. I can’t shield him from the wounds other people will give him. I can only teach him how to deal with them. I can only point him to Jesus and then I can only point myself to Jesus, to let Him heal both of us.
And I can teach him kindness. Love. Respect. Tenderness. Then, one day not too far in the future, release him into his life and pray. Oh, God, pray that Jesus shields and teaches better than I can.