I’m not one to express politically unless I’m sitting down with you for coffee or we’re pulling out the wine, but may I share one thing that my toddler has me thinking about with everything going on?
My Will has a will. And it’s fierce.
To be known, to be seen, to be heard, to be safe, to be praised, to be admired, to be laughed at in bliss and joy.
And more than anything, to be loved.
And until my dying day, he will always know he’s loved by the way I fight for him, which will be to no end. That’s the kind of love I signed up for when God handpicked me to love him my darndest with the explosive kind of love He chose for us.
You too? Okay, moving on to toddlerhood will.
HE IS TESTING ME SO HARD THESE DAYS.
Testing my endurance, testing my speech, testing the questioning of my own sanity, testing my headache threshold, testing my fuse.
But not my love. Never my love.
For all the screeching and the screaming, the irrational go away’s and no’s, the thirty three minute inconsolable meltdowns filled with gibberish harsh-ity, the outburst hitting that I swear is from another gene set — no wait, just his sin that burst my perfect bubble of him — nothing can stop
how my heart beats for him.
When people tell you having a child is to know there’s a God and to love harder, it’s true.
It is my favorite new mercy to wake up to.
It’s the hardest thing I do all day.
It is my daily surrender of control.
It is my humbling need for something mightier than me.
It is my without a doubt testament to goodness.
It’s my surviving on good coffee and a prayer.
And also a reminder that he got his will from me.
Its strength and its stubbornness.
It will serve him well, and also have moments of hold up.
Who are we without our will?
It reminds me that I’m human over and over and over again. Sure, it’s held me up in marriage ugliness, it has broken me down to my sin, it has been a precursor to poor decisions, and made me bite my tongue more times than I can count.
But look bigger.
My will has allowed me to persevere, to choose growth over stagnant, to test boundaries, to look back at the scars from my falling with pride that I stood back up.
It has set dreams into motion, pain thrust forward towards redemption, beating odds and choosing not to be a statistic.
It has been strength to others, arms linking arms, finding mama-driven hope among community just by speaking up out of the will within me.
My will let me say yes to Jesus in all the ways, which has really allowed me to say yes to life, because life is so dang hard.
So sure, right now, my son’s will is draining me if I’m being honest.
Because it’s not my own, it doesn’t always make sense, and I’m not in control of it.
How incredibly amazing to think about how it will serve him some day.
I can guarantee he’ll be one to speak up. For the unheard. For the things not seen.
He’ll hold eye contact longer than some adults I know.
He’ll probably launch his dreams into action so fast while others sit on the sidelines questioning their tangible-ness.
He’ll make things tangible.
He’ll ask all the right questions, and repeat them, just so things are clear.
He will ask for his space, which will probably lend itself to more imagination and reflection and self awareness.
And then he’ll talk your ear off and make sure your one on one time is full of quality.
Will’s will is strength,
even on the days that boundaries are broken.
Cause’ I can guarantee you, his will is driven out of love.