Just as we thought we’d turned the corner, a simple cafe visit (not even to eat but to look) turned into a massive puke fest when our little 4-yr old erupted with nausea.
Face flushed, I felt tears mount behind my eyes, feeling like I could have done better.
The young hipster shop owner kept telling us how much work we’d given her. I apologized profusely, heart hurting.
But a young man, no older than 25 years of age maybe, kept coming to us with reams of tissue. His simple gesture of kindness, amid the shopkeeper’s frustration and dozens of eyes staring, brought me tremendous comfort— his kindness said, “I see your pain, Mama. You’re not alone. Feel better soon.”
I wanted to cry.
Parenting is rarely easy. But I’m learning— it has its good and bad days.
When yr 4-yr old has puke all over herself and the shopkeeper just tells you to “carry yr child out” because she doesn’t want her floor stained any more, it leaves a mark on you, somehow.
My 6-yr old, having her plans to get a little sth from the toy shop wrecked again, teared up.
When you’re recovering yourself and having to watch over littles to nurse them back to health, it can feel like a lot.
But I’m learning— these days don’t last forever.
It will be OK.
Today, my 6-yr old, saddened by the vomiting episode of her lil’ sister, asked me, “Mama, can we do the board activity?”
I looked into her eyes and decided we’d talk about disappointment.
She defined it as “not being able to do something you wanted to do,” which I thought was a pretty good one for a first shot.
Is it OK to share that I was disappointed that the shopkeeper didn’t show us any empathy? I know she was probably mad at us etc, but nonetheless, I realized I didn’t need to rationalize how I felt. I felt disappointed and it was important to acknowledge that.
We talked about how to cope with those awful feelings and decided that finding something good to focus on, like the kind man who kept giving us tissue, and then just sitting as a family under our block in the evening were ways to cope with big feelings.
But maybe, the true disappointment I was really grappling with all week was when one of my bosses reacted to my sharing about my shift in career.
He’d always known my heart was in Africa. But when I shared the news, there was a palpable irritation, of “why are you wrecking my plans,” and a “you’ll no longer be useful to me.”
Is it OK to confess I spent hours awake last night grieving how dispensable I felt, after all we’d been through in the pandemic and deployments together.
I felt God asking me, “Are you disappointed because you’ve placed so much of your identity in your work and yr boss’ approval? When all that falls away, where does your security lie in?”
What if we had to pluck ourselves out of our social milieus, if only for a moment, and imagined our selves without our false anchors- where would we stand?
I have no words, only tears.