She crawls into bed with me this morning, carrying a small toy, and a two-year-old wound reopens, fresh.
“Guess where I got my doll?” she asks. It’s been some time since I’ve seen it, and I don’t want to look at it, talk about it now.
I swallow. “The movies.”
“Guess!”
“I did.”
“The movie theater,” she clarifies. “We were playing the video games and Daddy said to come, but I kept playing. And then everyone was gone, so I asked where my daddy was. They gave me the doll and then brought me to the movie. We watched Toy Story.”
Secretly I’m glad that my name wasn’t mentioned, that the story isn’t connected with me, although I held her afterward like I’d never let her go. It wasn’t Toy Story, but one of the Narnia movies. All ten of us went on Christmas Day, when the theater was noisy and crowded.
They gave her the Fiona doll, the way I’m told paramedics give teddy bears to traumatized children.
She was apart from us for about 10 minutes and I never even knew it. That’s the hardest part to remember, that in the darkness I didn’t realize she was missing.
Few items can overcome me with a sense of shame like the site of that doll. I didn’t write about it when it happened, it was too new. Too raw.
Too humiliating.
Unlike mine, her memory appears to be unclouded; it’s just a story about her doll. Nothing more.
I pray my parenting isn’t defined by those moments when I fall, and fail miserably.
Dawn,
We’ve all done stuff like that at some point. We honestly have.
And I know you’re a good mom! So can I make a suggestion? Go to God and commit to seeing that episode in an entirely different light. You said that you hope your parenting won’t be defined by when you failed miserably, but I wouldn’t think of that as a failure. I would think of that as life.
And I would think of that as a time when God showed up. Think of it: you didn’t know your little girl was gone, but God did. And from the time she was 2, God had His hand and His eye on her, and when she went wandering, He kept such good care of her and brought her back because He loves her. God really has a plan for her life, Dawn. Can you see it in how He took care of her, and made sure that she wasn’t traumatized?
I’d turn it into one of those God moments that you tell her again and again, as she gets older and starts to doubt, or has hard times, just say to her: “God sees when you’re wandering, and He’s always out there, ready to bring you back.” God watches when she wanders, and ultimately He’s the one whose going to protect her anyway, not you.
I don’t mean to lecture you; I’m sorry if it sounded that way. I’d be so mad at myself, too, if that happened. And I’d be thinking in my head all of the things that COULD have gone wrong.
But here’s the thing: none of those things did go wrong because God watched over her while she was wandering. And He will always do that for your little girl, so you keep telling her that story, over and over, and then, when she’s 19, and she’s being tempted to do something, she’ll remember that God is there when she wanders–and it’s really God who looks after her, always, not just you.
Okay, Sheila, you made me cry more than writing the post. Thank you, friend, for this beautiful perspective. It was just too close for me to see.
No problem, Dawn! Reading over my response, I now see all the spelling/grammar mistakes. Forgive me for that. But the heart was there, and I’m glad it encouraged you. It’s funny how we can often see the God moments in other people’s stories, but not always in our own. I’m horrible at seeing it myself. That’s why we need friends!
oh that hurt my heart. one of my worst fears is to lose one of my children. so easy to do when there are so many to keep up with. i’m glad she doesn’t remember it clearly.
Melissa, I think that was what I really needed to know: she remembers, but not the same way I do.
ditto what sheila so beautifully said. i have many parenting failures that burn vivid in my memory, that i pray that i could just forget. memories that i would never dare to tell anyone except my husband, and even then it was with shame and horror at myself. how could i have ______?
sometimes i look back at my foolishness. other times i think that maybe i am being prideful by worrying about what happened so much. if i asked God to forgive me where i failed, then why won’t i accept His forgiveness? do i think so much of myself, of my victories and my failures, that only my opinion of myself matters? as if my actions will completely define the course of my children’s lives? i leave no room for grace.
we must take our fears and failures (whether real or perceived) and bring them to the Cross.
and leave them there.
love you, friend.
marsha
oh my biggest fear is to lose a ‘loved one’ a child missing… lost never found or found years later in the midst of carnage that held them… I am always praying for my grand children that they stay safe and under the wings of the family who loves them. So glad it all worked out for you…
I, too, say “Amen!” to Sheila’s words.
Have you seen this article by Lysa TerKeurst?
http://lysaterkeurst.com/wp-content/uploads/pdf/A_Moms_Greatest_Fear.pdf
Losing one of my children has been one of my top 3 fears. I remember a time when my bitties were much smaller. Our son was just 2, and was no longer interested in riding in carts. Well, our daughter let it slip one day that my husband had lost him in a store that week. It was about 10 minutes or less. I lost it. And I chastised him severely. My husband felt horrible and I felt I couldn’t trust my husband. Do you that God is powerful, and He is listening? Can you guess what happened next? Yep, that’s right, three days later *I* lost my son at the local Wal-mart. They even had to announce a code Adam. A sales associate found him hiding in the racks of womens clothing. I was humbled and devastated all at once. The Lord taught me many a thing that day! (grin)
But like Sheila said, the Lord loves my little boy even more that I do – as hard as it is to imagine that being possible. And His hand can keep my son much safer than I ever could.
Sadly, we left our son at church after Awana on Weds night many many years ago. My husband & I drove seperate cars that night. When the program ended, he thought our son was with me & I thought our son was with him & didn’t realize until we got home that he was with neither! Needless to say we both drove back together & got him amidst some judging stares! I honestly think this happens more then you think….people just aren’t as willing to share.
Amy, I’m so glad I just found your comment. It was buried at the bottom of my spam pile (WordPress holds comments with links in them). Thank you!