Than the shades were pulled. But we can still see some light peeking in.
Ryan and I are cool with the wet sheets, the hyperactivity, the fits because we know that E is capable of being a happy kiddo. We've been refreshed and revived. I honestly had forgotten what it was like; I don't think we have had this many low key, relaxed days since 2008. Not kidding.
To be truthful, I have had some sin in the fact that I think I had come to believe that our family was always going to have some big battles. God is always good and sovereign, but that this struggle was always going to be a part of our lives. But our God likes to deliver in big ways. I was reading this morning in Matthew about Jesus feeding 5000. You know the story. He had been on a lake, healing people all day. I imagine it most have been such a party atmosphere and no one wanted to go home. The disciples, seeing the sun setting, reminded Jesus that it was time to wrap things up and they suggested that he send people home. I love that the Savior of the world, rather than having thousands of fish wash up to shore, or even have manna rain from heaven, just kept breaking the bread and breaking the bread and breaking the bread. Everyone got full and the party didn't end. How glorious is that?
So of course God can at any moment change everything in my house. And He did. And it was awesome and sweet and beautiful. I cried at the simplicity of our morning routine. I teared up at being able to read a book without holding (subtle, of course) this boy down. 8 whole days of this gift.
So we are back to some of our stuff. But this boy is new. This child wants to press his face against my side and he reaches over and grabs onto my hand. That is still there. The bond, the one every mama can not find words to describe but knows without doubt to be life changing, it happened.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday, Etienne woke his brothers up way too early; after wet sheets and most likely, hours of sleeplessness. Saturday, I scolded him for blasting his radio at 7am and he was furious with me. I mean, fists tightened, teeth grinding, yelling at the top of lungs mad. I was psyched!
Mad is an emotion.
Mad is not apathy.
Mad shows that he cares. And that is huge. HUGE! My son did not want me to be mad at him; and for so long, my anger, my scolding, it always resulted in long stares, fidgeting or flat affect. This is progress. And most importantly, this is hope.
"Yes!My soul finds rest in God; my hope comes from Him"