On Testing of Parents

This is my son Chase. 



Since the day he was born, I've marveled at how easy of a child he is.  He goes to sleep when I tell him to, and he loves to cuddle.  When he was an only child, he would wake up at the crack of dawn and we'd bring him to our bed with his morning bottle.  He'd cuddle, drink the bottle and go back to sleep.  It was a good, stress free life.  The only difficult thing about Chase has been finding shirts that fit his long arms (they are freakishly long).  He often looks like he's wearing a 3/4 length sleeve, when he isn't.  (In my defense, that flippin shirt fit yesterday.)

And once, his feet grew so fast that when we finally went to buy him a new pair of shoes, the lady showed us how he had been curling up his feet to put on his shoes in anticipation of the limited space.  Oops.  He just should have said something.  First time parents just can't do everything right, you know?  It's not my fault.  He's gigantic.  As in, he skipped 2T/3T all together and went straight to 4T when he was just two years old.  Now his feet are 3/4 of the size of MY FEET.  This is going to get crazy, folks.  Prepare yourself. 

Oh, and when he ever got in trouble? (Which was never.)  He just flowed with it.  He didn't flip out and try to beat me up (like a certain other child living in our home named Justin), but he did the discipline and moved on.  Occasionally he tried to outwit us ("Mom? I only clean up at school. Not here." and "Why don't I play and you clean? Then we'll both be happy.  Right mom?"), but in general, he's an easygoing, loving child. 

Until last weekend. 

Cue four-year-old child suddenly noticing free will. 

And four seconds after he noticed free will, cue logical, reasonable mother having internal debates with unreasonable rageful mother who is taking a mental tally of her stretch marks and wondering how the offender would ever dare utter the phrase "no" to his victim.  Because CHASE GARLAND, I went through hell for you.  So this "no" that you speak of?  Choose wisely my son.  Because when Mommy starts to count 1-2-3, she really isn't counting an obscure, abstract thing.  She's counting war wounds on her stomach, wherein it appears that a cat was hanging off a cliff and attached itself to my body in a last ditch effort to save it's life.  And it failed. 

So this is my life this week. 
Me: Hey Chase?  Please stop putting your blanket onto Adelai and then laying on her.  That's dangerous.
Chase: Kay.
Me (20 seconds later, he's doing it AGAIN): Chase! Come talk to me. 
Chase: No.
Me (mouth drops to the ground.  Stunned, pause for 22 seconds and then): WHAT? 
Chase: No. 
Me: Are you joking?
Chase: No.

So I've just started to pick his (ginormous) body up off the ground and place him in his room until he's ready to behave.  And it's happened, oh, I don't know, 10 times today already.  In case you are wondering, it has nothing to do with a discipline technique.  Really, he either goes into his room, or he sees my head explode off of my body.  Because honestly?  I just don't see it coming.  My Chase?  My blue-eyed, blond haired cherub is turning into a person. 

And while my brain is turning into a hot mess, I sometimes picture the description of Jesus in Revelation, where His eyes are "like a flame of fire" (Rev 1:14).  And I realize that his flamy eyes are Holy, and my flamy eyes are rageful and unholy.  

In this moment, I'm pretty sure that Jesus' eyes are like a flame of fire because His children said "No". 

Even in my obsessive, desperate pursuit to know God as much as humanly possible, I still say "no" every day.  He must want to count all His stretch marks all day long....kinda like when He responded to Job's incessant complaining with a litany of "Really?  You're going to question Me?  Did you see the ostrich that I made?  I think not, little man.  I THINK NOT." 

Once again, I'm blown away by how He reveals Himself through the parent-child relationship.  I hope someday I stop saying No.