Every good and perfect gift....
I'm quite organised really. In fact, scrap that, I'm as organised as a Filofax in its heyday. On my long, long maternity leave (the era I will refer to as pre-Elias) I sorted everything from my teaching folders to my jewellery box; even Zane's socks found themselves in neat pairs.
After about three weeks of determined sorting, I was ready; it was officially time for baby Duxbury to make a grand entrance. I borrowed a birthing ball to help him along...and we went for a curry...two curries...and I committed to stair climbing and long walks. In the end we drove to far away places like Horsey and Fakenham daring my little squatter to pack up and leave.
Needless to say, baby Duxbury was reluctant to fit to my schedule; he would not be sorted. This, in the world of a woman who lives her life in accordance with a school bell, spelt disaster.
I realised God had a lesson for me to learn pre-Elias. It's confession time friends: I'm a dirty, dirty control freak. I want to organise and plan every minutiae of my days (and Zane's) and as a parent I intended to organise and control all of my children. Picture the Von Trapps lining up at the foot of the stairs, immacultely dressed and singing in harmony; that's my brood - aren't they adorable?
So, in the car on the way to hospital for my induction I sat smugly aware of the lesson I had learnt over the last irksome two weeks. I will not be in control of Elias; he will make his own choices and being on hand with Post-Its to tell him that if he'd have let me make a list he never would have fallen from that hypothetical tree or chosen the wrong career will not be useful. Lesson learnt. Tick.
As I sit here writing now, Elias is seven weeks old, FINALLY asleep after much determined jiggling and I can confidently tell you that learning to relinquish control was never going to be a lesson of two weeks.How ridiculous that I thought I could box and sort a huge lesson like that into two weeks.
In the very early days I confusedly grieved over my beautiful baby boy. Irrespective of the sleep deprivation, birth trauma and cracked nipples (enough to make anyone cry) I didn't know why I wasn't more joyful. In hindsight, I think I was mourning a lifestyle where I had been entirely in control. That was gone; I couldn't even go to the toilet on my own schedule.
Seven weeks later, I'm still learning. Every time I think I've learnt something about Elias (namely - how to get him to stop crying and go to sleep), he'll change his patterns and I'll get that familiar 'where is the instruction manual?' feeling of out-of-control frustration.
I may not have learnt how not to be in control yet. However, in the process, I have learnt something wholly more important: if submitting to the natural chaos of Elias is how God has chosen to teach me to really be a living sacrifice, a magnificently loving way to teach me my hardest lesson yet, then I really can place my life into his hands. His tuition reminds me that he is faithful and good and his control is altogether better than mine.
'Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change' (James 1:17).
After about three weeks of determined sorting, I was ready; it was officially time for baby Duxbury to make a grand entrance. I borrowed a birthing ball to help him along...and we went for a curry...two curries...and I committed to stair climbing and long walks. In the end we drove to far away places like Horsey and Fakenham daring my little squatter to pack up and leave.
Needless to say, baby Duxbury was reluctant to fit to my schedule; he would not be sorted. This, in the world of a woman who lives her life in accordance with a school bell, spelt disaster.
I realised God had a lesson for me to learn pre-Elias. It's confession time friends: I'm a dirty, dirty control freak. I want to organise and plan every minutiae of my days (and Zane's) and as a parent I intended to organise and control all of my children. Picture the Von Trapps lining up at the foot of the stairs, immacultely dressed and singing in harmony; that's my brood - aren't they adorable?
So, in the car on the way to hospital for my induction I sat smugly aware of the lesson I had learnt over the last irksome two weeks. I will not be in control of Elias; he will make his own choices and being on hand with Post-Its to tell him that if he'd have let me make a list he never would have fallen from that hypothetical tree or chosen the wrong career will not be useful. Lesson learnt. Tick.
As I sit here writing now, Elias is seven weeks old, FINALLY asleep after much determined jiggling and I can confidently tell you that learning to relinquish control was never going to be a lesson of two weeks.How ridiculous that I thought I could box and sort a huge lesson like that into two weeks.
In the very early days I confusedly grieved over my beautiful baby boy. Irrespective of the sleep deprivation, birth trauma and cracked nipples (enough to make anyone cry) I didn't know why I wasn't more joyful. In hindsight, I think I was mourning a lifestyle where I had been entirely in control. That was gone; I couldn't even go to the toilet on my own schedule.
Seven weeks later, I'm still learning. Every time I think I've learnt something about Elias (namely - how to get him to stop crying and go to sleep), he'll change his patterns and I'll get that familiar 'where is the instruction manual?' feeling of out-of-control frustration.
I may not have learnt how not to be in control yet. However, in the process, I have learnt something wholly more important: if submitting to the natural chaos of Elias is how God has chosen to teach me to really be a living sacrifice, a magnificently loving way to teach me my hardest lesson yet, then I really can place my life into his hands. His tuition reminds me that he is faithful and good and his control is altogether better than mine.
'Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change' (James 1:17).
Amazingly written and I'm sure many mums including myself will wholeheartedly agree with every word you've written. I too am a control freak and have learnt, or rather am still learning these lessons! You are absolutely not alone in this one!
ReplyDeleteWe don't control, we manage. X
ReplyDeleteEvery good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
ReplyDeletegoldenslot