Emotionally unstable kids and the Father who loves us

It really was the perfect day. Some plans changed last minute which left the calendar square completely blank and the forecast promised 84-degrees. Glorious!

Our housemate popped up her head, “Going to the track; you guys want to come?!” The kids were eager, the sun was shining, and at the last minute Jeff showed up and surprised us all by saying he’d come too. Yes! We ran to the local High School track and watched birds, ran stairs, jogged laps, and goofed off until we’d worked up a good sweat, then ran home.

On the way home we discovered an ornithological jackpot — dozens of crows crowding into a walnut tree, throwing nuts down on the road to crack open, then feasting on the contents. The kids watched, mesmerized, then gathered handfuls of walnuts to take home to our own bird feeders.

After lunch, when it was sunny and warm, I decided to be uncharacteristically spontaneous and treat the kids to a trip to the zoo. All morning I had had a strong impression that I should take them that day. I wasn’t sure exactly why, we hadn’t been to the zoo in at least a year because we only go when we’re invited by someone with a membership (read: Free admission), but with 84-degree weather I figured we could spring for it. Plus, I just kept sensing I should take them today. The kids were ecstatic with the surprise, and we were on our way.

Traffic was surprisingly light, and when we arrived, we discovered that it was the last day to get free admission to another museum (in the same complex) with payment to the zoo. What?! So we’d get 2-for-1 because we came that day. I praised God for His care for us, celebrating the fun treat for our kids.

Now I’ll admit, I’m not even a huge zoo fan, but apparently this day, all the animals were out. It was like they knew we were coming! The bears came face-to-face, the bald eagle perched just outside our reach, the 5 massive California condors were looming right above us, and the cheetah nestled right next to Dutch, just a thin glass window between them.

Seriously, what a day. We were on cloud 9 when we finally left the zoo, just in time for a trip to the other museum. They enjoyed that one as well, and we finally dragged ourselves out, back to the car, and arrived with 1 minute left on our parking pass. We soaked up every second of this trip! With full and grateful hearts we drove home, taking a creative route because of traffic.

Then, just before home, because of the unusual route we took, we drove near the house of Julie, that gal who lived with us once upon a time. I prayed for her as we drove by her neighborhood, then stopped at a stop light, and looked over at the crosswalk … and there she was! Oh my! I hollered over at her across two lanes and she lit up, winding her way through traffic to climb into our car. She was breathless and happy to see us,

“Can you take me home?!”

So we had the chance to talk to her and pray over her before heading home. I just shook my head at God’s amazing providence in so many ways. I thanked Him over and over for leading our day, our every step.

We pulled into the driveway, hearts so full.

But then.

I needed the gate opened, and Dutch full of joy and zeal, happily volunteered, “Oh I’ll do it Mommy!”

He swung open the door and hopped out … and caught his foot as he jumped, and landed SMACK on the asphalt. 

Sobs. Bloodied knee, bloodied elbow, sobbing boy. I carried him up into the house, thinking we were would be fine. Thinking to myself this is no big deal, just a scrape, it was still an amazing day, still so much to be happy about. 

But then.

This kid. He can emotionally tailspin like nobody’s business, and next thing I knew I was scrambling to make dinner and he was still sobbing, devastated, crying in pain, saying it was the worst day. When Jeff walked in from work all he could see was a messy kitchen, a harried wife, and a sobbing, sullen little boy.

Awesome.

How does the best day turn to the worst day in like 30-seconds?!! Dutch continued in a steady stream of negativity and crying. Next he started missing one of our dead chickens and became inconsolable, unable to think or talk or anything other than a dead chicken.

Now, here is the part where you, mature adult that you are, would’ve handled the situation well.

I didn’t.

I was ticked. I was so frustrated. I sat across the porch from him, facing him, positioned against him, trying to piece together calm sentences but inside I was saying something like, Why on earth are you CRYING OVER A DEAD CHICKEN?! I just gave you the best day imaginable! I did everything for you! We had the best day! Everything was awesome and now you are completely hijacking my awesome day and letting your emotions RUIN EVERYTHING! WHY ARE YOU SO EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE?!!

Oh the irony! 

We wonder where our emotionally unstable children get it from, right?

*sigh*

I finally stop questioning, turn my heart’s gaze up, and ask the only question that matters: 

What would the Father do?

I see it clearly.

I went near, right beside him, and held out my hand. He looked up, tears still streaming down his cheeks, his face asking his own question: “Is she angry with me? Or is she kind?”

I smiled. He gave me his hand–oh! The feel of that hand! The feel of our children’s hands–isn’t it a wonder?!  Oh, Father, let me never turn down an opportunity to hold this hand. 

I led him into the dark living room, to the special gold couch we rarely sit on. I pulled him onto the couch next to me, his head resting on my neck, his tired-out body resting beside mine. I held him there, kissing the top of his head, wiping away his tears. We lay there, in silence, there in the dark, for a long time. He stopped crying.

He smiled.

Oh how much I need to learn, friends! I am that emotionally unstable child, tossed to and fro by every skinned knee that comes my way. And yet, the Father loves me, loves us, so much it’s unfathomable. 

And so, I repent again (it’s a daily thing). Even as I type these words I hear more tears, who knows why. Daddy is doing bedtime and there’s no telling what the cause may be. So I leave this space, again. I go. I listen.

The tragedy? Toast.

Yes, of course. It’s about toast. 

But you know what? They can be emotional wrecks, irrational at times, and yes, even a little unstable.

I resolve, afresh, to love them. Just as the Father does to us: Emotional wrecks, irrational at times, and yes, even a little unstable. The song I’ve sung all week:

You’re a good good Father, it’s who You are, it’s who You are, 

and I’m loved by You; It’s who I am, it’s who I am. 

{For all the emotionally unstable kids out there (myself included!), may we know the Father’s love. Thanks for reading.}