I remember learning about being a parent long before I ever was one. Growing up, I had good role models in both friends and family. As a young adult, I attended a church in my hometown and met weekly with various Bible Studies and small groups. Many of the participants were a few years older than I, already married and in the process of having and raising their young children.
In these small groups, I learned some of the foundations that still influence my own parenting style. One of the things these young parents pointed out was that becoming a parent gave them a clearer view of God. Being in the role of caretaker, helping to shape a person into themselves, gave them a stronger understanding of God’s character.
Now, as a parent myself, I’m starting to see that idea play out more and more. In loving and learning alongside my kids, I’m getting clearer glimpses of the character of God.
When Naptime Doesn’t Go As Planned
Earlier this week, I put my kids down for nap time as usual. They are finally starting to nap at the same time, leaving me with a larger chunk of time to do some things around the house and for myself. Thankfully, both of my kids are decent sleepers. It’s rare for either of them to wake up and need me to intervene, but this is especially true of my oldest.
Of course, this nap was the exception to the rule. I had just finished my “must-do” list and was settling in for some time to read and write. Almost as if he knew, as soon as I sat down, my oldest started crying.
Even when he wakes, he can usually settle himself within a few minutes. I watched the monitor, secretly praying he would settle back down, and I could have more time to work on personal projects. Alas, no such luck.
Going into his room is almost always a last-ditch effort. I know with 95% certainty that no more sleep will happen once I go in, and it’s a safe bet that he won’t even want to stay in his room alone. For the last few days, I have been working some writing ideas out in my head. I was looking forward to some quiet time to write.
But the sound of my crying child was heartbreaking. So I went in.
I hoped maybe I could settle him, and he would at least let me leave the room for a bit. More sleep wasn’t likely, but if I could get him to rest quietly in his room, and I could sneak out, I would count that a win.
I walked into his room, pulling the door mostly closed behind me. In the semi-dark, I knelt by his bed to talk, but he couldn’t tell me why he was upset. He was so worked up that he was doing quick breathing in between crying, unable to take a full breath. I crawled into bed with him, and we cuddled. It took 20 minutes for his breathing to regulate.
Whatever was going on was clearly meaningful and upsetting to him, but he couldn’t tell me what was wrong.
To make a long story short, he never went back to sleep, and I never got to write. We lay in bed, him playing with cars and me half-in to a nap myself. We stayed in his bed together for most of the remaining rest time.
God Delights to be With Us
Reflecting on it later, I became aware of how the character of God was reflected in my interactions with my son.
When my son cries for his momma, I go to him. I want him to know he is the most important thing, and I will always come for him. In the same way, God will always come to us when we cry out. He wants us to know we are the most important thing to Him.
God loves us even when we have big feelings. He wants to be with us, delighting in us and loving being with us, no matter the circumstances. No request, thought, or feeling is too big or too small for God.
God hears us when we speak to Him. He comes into the room, sits with us, listens, speaks kindly to us, and reassures us. He is our perfect comfort.
In responding to my son, I was modeling for him (and myself) how God responds to us. He always comes to His children.
My children are in a really needy season. They are young and learning, and I am their safe place. May God be our safe place. The parent we can run to with our troubles and worries, our celebrations and sharing what we’ve learned.
