Reflection.

So I've had a hard past few days with the boys. No matter how consistent we try to remain in our parenting, they just seem to ebb and flow in their behavior. We go through good and bad periods.

Tonight I decided to lay down with Joel in his bed for a few moments, in hopes of catching a little special time with just him (to try to overshadow the constant discipline it seems they've been receiving lately). We were chatting in the semi-darkness but then he left the room for a bit to go potty.

I felt like I could doze off in his bed and then my thoughts began wandering to something much deeper. When people lose a child, it seems there can be two reactions to their child's bedroom. Some shut the door and cannot bear to open it for years. Others find comfort lying in their child's bed and feeling the worn texture of their special blanket.

I thought about what it would be like if I was lying there, grieving for my own child. Looking up I saw the model solar system hanging from his ceiling that he picked out at the country store at Cracker Barrel restaurant when my mom told him he could pick out a toy. I thought it an odd choice at the time, but now it brought tears to my eyes.

I looked at his drawer and the green fleece pajamas that were hanging out. He tries to wear them most every night but I won't let him because it's way too hot outside...he still insists on keeping them in his drawer, though, because he wants to be able to see them.

As I rested my head on his pillow I smiled at how he takes his pillowcase off every night after we leave the room and throws it on the floor, preferring to sleep on the pillow without it.

Seeing his ceiling fan reminded me of just how excited he was when Zac installed it and how he invited everyone that came to our house over the next several months up to his room to see it.

Hearing the whirring sound of his humidier made me think back to the time Zac and I completely had to dismantle it when he went through a phase of putting coins, paper clips, and other small objects in the vent because he liked the sound it made.

It would have been so easy to be overcome by grief had our circumstances been different.

But then I remembered, I have nothing to grieve. God has placed this vibrant child in our lives and he is living and breathing at this very moment. And yes, there are days when I cry over disastrous outings with the kids or their defiant behavior (see my previous post even!), but God once again gently retuned my heart tonight and helped me put things into perspective. Every day should be a day that I give thanks for the lives of my children--no matter what the daily occurances were.

And so in the morning when I put Joel's pillowcase back on and turn off his humidifier and ceiling fan, I will smile and say a prayer of thanksgiving.