Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Snipping Insecurity


“I lay on the floor listening to my daughter wailing in her crib and thought to myself, I just wish that she felt safe and secure.”

            Arianna recently had a small procedure done to snip her tongue because she was tongue tied a bit and we (my wife and I) felt that there may be some speech issues that would arise from her being tongue tied.  Denise (my wife) scheduled a time for the procedure and we went forward with it.  We never like the thought of our daughter going through something that may cause her any form of discomfort in any way, but we believed (and still do) it is for her best.

            If you know Arianna, you know that she is pretty laid back, funny, almost always walking with a smile on her face, and loves to joke around even at her young age (2).  So we went to Children’s hospital and she was her normal, easy going self.  So much so that the nurses asked us more than once if she was always like this because she was so nonchalant about everything going on.  She recovered quickly, and was ready to go home after the procedure and eat.  
Arianna, as she waits for her procedure at the hospital.

            We came home…and there is a point here, I promise…she ate and went down for a nap.  She slept for quite a while, as expected, and woke up crying.  Actually, it was a bit more of a wail.  Denise checked her temperature and it was a whopping 105.  

Queue the freak out.

We carried out the normal fever reducing measures, and called the doctor.  Nothing to be too alarmed about but keep monitoring as the fever teetered between 99 and 103.  We went to the pediatrician within the next few days and continued our home care, and she slowly began to become less “funky.”  

However, there was…and to a point still is…an issue.  

She was scared to go to sleep.

At least that is what I think.

She went to sleep and woke up and her tongue hurt.

Then she went to sleep and woke up with a fever and felt miserable.

She knew something happened when she went to sleep.

So, going to bed became a fight for the first time in my daughter’s life.  She is the easiest child I know of, so this was so foreign.  We would put her in bed and she would scream and toss and jump and everything a child can do to stay awake and get our attention.  So we tried to teach her the word “safe.”  For some reason, it is very difficult to describe what it means to be safe to a two year old.  

My wife and I held her in her room for a while and laid on the floor with her, then we moved her to her crib as we lay on the floor and this is when she began to cry because she wanted the security of being with us.  

I lay on the floor listening to my daughter wailing in her crib and thought to myself, I just wish that she felt safe and secure.  I wish she knew that she could trust me to protect her.  I wish I could somehow communicate with her.  

And it dawned on me, in the midst of the chaos, the crying, the shrieks of “Daddy!” that this must be very similar to how God feels when I am here crying, screaming, and writhing in the midst of some trial and feeling like He isn’t there or just doesn’t care.  

I have a decent vocabulary of words that I can use, but many of those words (especially those that describe safety) are lost on a two year old version of vocabulary.  How much greater is God’s communication to my limited understanding?

I was within seconds of being in Arianna’s presence when she was in her crib and I was in the other room, but to her, I might as well have been a million miles away because she didn’t see me.  Ever feel that way with God?  

Why won’t you respond?  Maybe He is and we have to trust that He is in His omniscient way.  I could allow my daughter to have everything she wants done her way and I could be her whipped servant, but that isn’t what is best for her.  She doesn’t understand that and gets frustrated with me at times, but, as a father I know what is better for her and am ok with the anger she has towards me because I know it will be what is best for her in the long run.

God is similar, only in a much greater scale.  Do I trust Him though?  Do I rest in the safety of knowing that He has me?  Can I relax and let go of situations that I do not understand?  Or am I the child screaming at Him because I want what I want because I am afraid, hurt, and not understanding what God is doing?  

I hate the fact that my daughter suffered, but I love the fact that she loves me and smiles when I come home and runs to me saying, “Daddy!”  God does too.  Look for the lessons, they seem to be abounding all around.

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