Toddler Life Lessons

'Sorry, Mom, it was an accident.' He says the right words, but I don't know that he quite grasps their meaning because we seem to be finding ourselves in this position quite often. Now, I need to clarify right away that our toddler is exceptional and one of my very favorite human beings. Owen is smart, adventurous, kind and hilarious. But he's also two years old and going through an unbelievable amount of change right now.

These are just a few of the things we've put him through in the past three and a half months: moving across the ocean, road tripping through seven states, potty training, being introduced to what feels like a million new people (and we're related to them all, Mom?!), bringing Baby Brudder home, experiencing winter for the very first time, learning to share Dad and Mom and sleeping in a big boy bed. Safe to say, some bumps in the road are to be expected; this last week those bumps took the form of regression in the potty training area.
God teaches me many lessons through my sons. Seriously, who would've thought one could discover deep spiritual truths while scrubbing poop stains out of tiny, little man boxers?! But it's true. I'm coming to believe that we are all just toddlers living in big people bodies. We try to act like we've got it all figured out and 'I can do it myself!' when we obviously can not and do, in fact, desperately need assistance. We try to run before we learn to walk. Everything is more catastrophic when we are hungry or tired. And if it wasn't so socially inappropriate we would all throw enraged-toddler-style fits from time to time, complete with crying so hard we turn blue in the face.
And yet...
God loves us.
And yet...
I love my toddler.

So, back to the poop issues. The revelation of the week came as Owen stumbled out of his room post-nap, looking about as fragile as Grandma's china and with pants looking more than a little...well, soiled. I walked him into the bathroom and at this point he usually gets 'the talk' about how disappointed I am and how big boys go potty in the toilet, yada yada. But this was different. He was so obviously broken by the events that had just transpired that as I helped him step out of his pants, tears started rolling down those sweet, sweet cheeks. I didn't utter a word; he was inflicting more than enough punishment on himself. I wiped him off, helped him step into new boxers and then gathered him into my arms and we sat on the bathroom floor together and rocked back and forth.
Sometimes I am so blatantly disobedient to my Father. Like, Jonah-style, catch a ride on the boat going as far from Nineveh as possible kind of disobedient. And then I need to be told that my actions were not those of a 'big girl' and were, indeed, unacceptable. I am capable of so much more. But other times, life just happens and I find myself in a world of trouble and I tip toe out of my room, head hung in shame and whisper, 'Sorry, Papa, it was an accident.' And you know what He does, like the Father of the prodigal son, He comes to me with grace that is stronger than any punishment. He gently wipes the gunk off as tears roll down my cheeks and then He sits with me, right there on the floor of the bathroom, and holds me close.
I am so thankful for grace.
Ephesians 2:8-9 'For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.' 

I regularly ask Jesus to teach me SO THAT I can teach my boys. I have much to learn. But one of the biggest lessons I am trying to apply is that I am called to raise, disciple and love my boys like He loves me. 1 John 4:19 'We love because He first loved us.' This way, when I have any doubt on how to handle a situation I turn my thoughts to myself, toddler in a big girl body, and the countless ways I screw up each day. And then I try to respond to my boys in the way that God responds to me. Sometimes I need a serious time out. Sometimes nature simply takes its course and the consequences of my actions become the best form of teaching. And other times, drowning in my own shame and guilt, I need to be scooped up and held close and told that I am loved. Regardless, grace always wins.

Every day is something new with these boys and, although sometimes I fail to see it, there is almost always a lesson for me involved, too! Owen wants to swing high, 'but not REALLY high, Mom'. He is so brave and tough but he also likes the door left 'just a tiny bit open, Mom' when he goes to bed at night. This is so like me; ready to spread my wings and soar, and yet desperately needing to know that I have a soft place to land, strong arms that always catch me. May I have the child-like faith that Owen shows me each day. May I extend grace as it has so richly been lavished upon undeserving, little me.

Owen runs up to me from time to time, completely out of the blue, to say, 'Jesus lives in our HEARTS!' And then speeds off to resume playing. Seriously, he may be the one teaching me, here. (Just don't tell him!) May I live with the remarkable trust that he daily exudes. He also jumps off the couch yelling a line from one of his latest memory verses, 'SONS OF GOD!' and we joke that this is probably what David's mighty men yelled as they charged into battle. But what if I brought my faith into every detail of life, even couch jumping, with such reckless abandon!? Wouldn't God be pleased?!  I'm telling you.. I could go on and on. Life with a toddler equals life lessons in abundance. Just when I thought I had life figured out, God gave me boys and said, 'Daughter, we are JUST getting started!' I have so much to learn. Thank goodness for GRACE.
In conclusion, this morning Owen informed that he was starving and needed to have, and I quote, 'Yogurt and a bagel and a banana and pancakes and.... SALSA!' :) I haven't exactly gleaned the life lesson from this request yet, but it did allow me to start the day with a chuckle and maybe that is a lesson in itself. Why not begin each day with joy? Why not be outrageous with your breakfast orders? Why not..