Tip of My Iceberg

Nobody likes to be pushed aside.

Even for a great reason.

Brooklyn, at two, has waited with great anticipation for baby brother Mason to show up. She’s been kind to him, giving him kisses when she’s supervised, holding his pacifier in his mouth under the kind eyes of her dad.

She wasn’t prepared for the amount of time it would take to care for a newborn.

She gets that her mom has to care for Mason and gives her grace to do what only Mom can do for her brother.

But when Dad has to hold baby brother because Mom needs to care for her recovery, it’s a little more strained. Not that she’d ever complain about the little guy. But she demands more from her dad and becomes a little perturbed when he’s focused on Mason.

Does everyone have to pay so much attention to Mason?

I’m here to help for a time, and she understands fully that I could do what she asks her dad to do. I’ll try to engage her in play and conversation, but she’d rather have Dad do it. Have Dad to play with. Have Dad make her snack.

I’m fairly invisible when I try to meet her needs.

It’s not intentional. She’s had her world turned upside down, and even though she anticipated the arrival of her brother, it wasn’t what she expected. Change is hard. For everyone.

Tiffany and Ramsay are experiencing long nights and no sleep. Focusing on child number one while child number two has immediate needs is different. And challenging. As much as they knew that their new norm would cause them to adapt, the reality is bigger and tougher than they had prepared for.

Such is life.

Change happens. Every day of our lives. I act like I’m dealing well with understandable expectations–until I’m thrown a curve ball and something happens that I didn’t see coming. If I’m in a good place–plenty of sleep, calm environment, doable circumstances–I can flex appropriately.

How often does that really happen?

Life is unexpected; we’re not in control. We live in a world where other’s actions and decisions affect our lives, where we’re impacted by things we didn’t plan on, things we can’t predict.

I get frustrated when I can’t manage the circumstances of my life. When things feel out of control and I begin to react instead of respond like a capable adult.

I’m not always adept at the capable adult part.

I want to throw a tantrum, like Brooklyn does when her life feels messy. I want to pout and choose not to act appropriately.

Not really an option.

But God sees me in my mess. In my frustration and anxiety, He knows my circumstances. They’re never a surprise to Him, never something that makes Him want to give up on me. I can’t shock Him with my reactions nor disappoint Him with my behavior.

Brooklyn experiences such love from her parents, whether she knows it or not.

Me? I’m seen by the One who made me. Loved without hesitation.

No matter how invisible I feel to anyone else.