So how was your day????????♥♥♥♥♥
This was the sum total of an email my 10-year old daughter sent me the other day. Her godmother gave her a tablet for Christmas and to say she enjoys it is a bit of an understatement.
Another message said this.
Hi mom! I learned 2 NEW steps in the reel!
And a third posed another question about a song she had written, sung, and attached in a voice recording – thereby exposing a lovely, brave vulnerability.
I was so scared to send this! Please tell me your honest opinion. I want the truth!! Please!!!!!!!!
Did I miss any of these opportunities to meet my daughter eye-to-eye and answer her with joy and appreciation – letting her know just how I excited I am that she’s caring about others, challenging herself, and developing her gifts?
Thank God, no.
Have I missed chances before? You bet.
Young children reach out for love and their parents’ recognition ALL THE TIME. But as we become more self-conscious, we meet our parents’ praise and adoration with skepticism. A parent’s mere presence can be irritating. We think they are stifling our growth.
Just this morning, I was at my kids’ school for the Current Parent Open House to poke my head into a few classes and observe. It’s a good way to get a very quick view of what’s in store for the next school year. My oldest will be in eighth grade in the fall, so I’m quite familiar with grades K-7, but I thought I’d take a brief look at grade 8. I forgot for a moment that the 7th and 8th graders switch classrooms for certain subjects, and as happenstance would have it, the first classroom I chose was 8A, where across the room amidst a sea of young faces sat my son, giving me a look I can only describe as slightly less than malevolent. I raised my eyebrows at him, turned swiftly, and left.
I have no desire to embarrass my son. He’s a good kid. But it’s getting a bit trickier now. He’s his own person. He’s going to try more and more things on his own, with and without parental approval. And I know that the days of my telling him I love him, and that being enough to satisfy him, are gone. What I pray he learns, that so many adults never do, is that not he – or anyone else – can satisfy him, either.
My son is made for more. I am made for more. We are all made for more.
I knew the ‘more’ was calling me this morning. And it wasn’t because of my son’s glaring face. In fact, I found that rather amusing. No, it’s because I felt the holy nudge. A call to come and listen. And I obeyed.
I walked over to the church and spent some time in the Adoration chapel, resting in the presence of the consecrated Host, just sitting with my Lord. And I gave thanks until my mind could think of nothing else to be thankful for. And that’s where, yet again, I could meet God.
He is in the infinite peace and satisfaction – the ‘more’ that is already here, but that comes flooding in to us when we stop trying to push off on our own and instead just reach out like children and say, “Father, hello.”