Life is Messy

Week Two of Potty Boot Camp is teaching me some things.

K is a champion potty star. My biggest struggle now is weaning her from the treats she is accustomed to receiving for BMs. Hold Out Boy, who must now remain anonymous thanks to his mishap in a restaurant, has turned a huge corner. He is not only making deposits in the appropriate receptacle, but doing so without assistance...except for clean up, of course.

My other son, however, has regressed. We returned for a second week of Day Camp Monday and he has been on a potty strike ever since. He truly loves camp and is excited to go every day. I can only assume it is because they are not asking him regularly if he needs to go.

Unfortunately, he is wetting himself at home as well. I really don't get it. He knows the drill. He repeats it to me. He will go if I place him on the potty proactively, but without my intervention he will not go.

I have tried asking him what changed, offering rewards for staying clean and dry again, praying with him about it and encouraging him in love. I just don't get it. He looks at me with pitiful eyes. He tells me he loves me. I really don't think he is acting out against me, but I just cannot pinpoint why everything has changed.

As I have repeatedly discovered him quietly "hiding" with his head hung in shame in the last couple of days, I have been struck with the symbolism to our human condition. Don't we, too, often disconnect what we "know" from what we "do?" Some days I have barely ended a prayer of confession, before I am mentally heading down a self-centered, critical path again.

As far back as Genesis, people have hid in their shame. It is such a strange way of thinking. Why do we hide from the ones who love us most? I want what is best for my son. I want him to grow and move to the next phase of maturity. I believe in his ability to do it. Yet, he willfully chooses an option that is not best, then hides in his shame. Oh, God, aren't I so often like my three-year-old? I think I have it all under control...and then I make a big mess and am ashamed.

Yet, in the midst of my frustration, I am reminded that my heavenly Father is a head lifter. He sees my shame and figuratively cups his hand below my chin and lifts my head to look into His Face. I can imagine him tenderly saying, "Trust me, my child. This must be done. I love you. Let me help you. Let's go try this again."

Oh, Heavenly Father, thanks for loving me when I am a mess. I sin. I hide. I confess. I repeat the cycle. You pursue me and love me through it all. Please fill me with your grace and patience during the frustrating challenges of parenting. I confess that much of my annoyance is because I have to clean up his mess. Yet, you have cleaned up far worse in my heart. Grant me wisdom to know what this child needs. Give me perspective in the heat of the moment, not just reflecting on it later. I need You, God. Amen.