Teachable Moment: Fears in the night

This just happened five minutes ago. It's parenting lessons in real time on the blog tonight.

What's funny is that in a good parenting moment, I don't usually feel like I know exactly what to say to my child. I hash it out as I go. (Don't we all?) And often, like tonight, as I walk through a sticky situation, what I believe materializes even more clearly.

When I teach some important truth to my child, I reteach it to myself.

Know what I mean?

My son, who gets up typically a few times every night for all the reasons you'd guess, just came out of his room to ask if there could possibly be any "emergencies" tonight. Last night, by the way, he came out to ask if I was doing anything that could cause a fire.

I know this boy like the back of my hand, and I can basically read his mind, at least in this area. This is what's happening. He is lying in bed, restless and awake (just like I am for a good hour before sleeping), letting his mind get carried away with fears. For a while, he was afraid of someone coming in his window (I have NO idea how he landed on that creepy possibility. We don't talk about those kinds of sad stories, or even watch the news. I say it's straight from the enemy.) But lately, his fears are more home disaster themed.

So while I held him, I was tempted - SO tempted - to make promises I couldn't keep. For instance, as a loving, nurturing mommy who wants more than anything for her child to feel safe and secure, it's so tempting to say:

"Oh, honey. Nothing like that is going to happen."
"Awww, our house isn't going to catch on fire. You're perfectly safe."
"Little buddy, daddy and I aren't going to let anything bad happen to you."

As if we have total control. The more I was tempted to give him false reassurances, the more I began to flat out REFUSE to tell my child something that wasn't 100% bullet proof. As my heart ruffled through all the possible responses to his fears, I only had one thing left to say to him. It was like I pulled every piece of paper out of the file cabinet until only one remained.

(And by the way, I didn't say this all sappy and sweetly. I took his bony shoulders in my hands, looked him in the eye, and used my serious voice.)  I said, "I can't tell you what's going to happen because I don't know the future. But I DO know the most important thing, the only thing I can promise you: God loves you, bud. He sees you, he knows what you need, and HE is a bigger, stronger protector than even daddy and I."

He asked more questions, not quite getting it. Alright, he's only 7. He pressed the "fire" thing, still wondering if my husband or I EVER do any activities at night that could lead to a fire. He even said, "So what are the other things that can cause a fire..." No. I continued to REFUSE to entertain and feed the fear gripping his heart. I told him instead he needed to STOP the fears by talking to God and then trusting Him, because He is BIGGER and STRONGER than anything that could happen.

Friends, I will not tell him life will be all sunshine and rainbows. There are horrible floods in the south right now. We could have a record-breaking earthquake in the middle of the night. I know people who have lost everything to house fire. EVERYTHING. When my son asked with terror in his eyes, "Well, if we have a fire, will I be able to grab my stuff?" Don't you think every bit of my being wanted to say "YES! You'll always have your blankies and your guys and your favorite Legos." That's what he wanted to hear. But do I want him to lean on lies or on Jesus? That is the question I had to ask in the moment.

I want Him to lean on Jesus. And that's it.

Because one day, fear of losing his blankie will become fear of losing his job.
Fear of someone coming in his window will become fear of someone breaking his heart.
And the list goes on.

I knew tonight I needed to water that one seed that was planted a few years ago in his heart....a seed of faith.

Faith needs roots to weather the real, ripping storms of life. And roots grow when one's faith is tried.

I'm choosing to step into my little buddy's faith-trying storm, not shield him from it.

Lord have mercy, because I'm sure it's not the last time.

linking up with Amanda, here {a tad late}