Ezra fell down the stairs yesterday.
I heard him crying as I was changing out of my church clothes and in a moment of panic, wondered if I had forgotten to shut the door to the basement after laying Jonas down for a nap.
Coming around the corner into the kitchen and realizing that the door was indeed open was one of the scariest moments of my life.
I ran. I ran so fast that I don't remember how I reached him. I only remember the way I felt. I picked him up and held him close and checked him all over.
I was shaking and crying and terrified.
He was fine. Truly, I'm not sure how, but he was and is completely fine.
I, on the other hand, remained a mess. I ripped myself apart with thoughts of my incompetency as a mother. I felt like the worst mom in the world, negligent and forgetful and guilty.
The only counselor I ever saw pinpointed me from the very beginning: "You are way too hard on yourself, Gretchen." This was one of those moments. I curled into myself and fixated on my failure.
I felt sick all afternoon. The "what-if's" and "what-could-have-been's" terrorized me. I allowed them to. Logically, I knew that Ezra was okay. I knew that he was safe and healthy and perfectly perfect. Yet I was allowing my thoughts to reek complete havoc on my peace.
Then there came a moment of decision for me. I was watching a video of our worship experience yesterday morning at church. The worship that day was powerful, anointed, and broke some chains off of me. As I re-experienced that moment via video, one of the lyrics jumped out at me: "You rescued me so I could stand and sing, I am a child of God".
Rescue. I knew that God had rescued my boy, again. I knew that with my whole being. I just didn't know why. Then, in that moment, it hit me. God is rescuing Ezra for Himself and some greater purpose that I cannot yet fathom. Something in me just knows it. I don't need to fear losing a boy that God seems intent to rescue.
Even in my failure, I cannot break what God intends to keep whole.
I knew then that I had a choice to make. I could keep ruminating on what could have happened, or what could happen the next time I forget to do something important. I could tie myself up in knots with question after question, the worst case scenarios building a grim future for my life.
Or I could choose to see God's mercy in the situation. I could see His saving hand and pour out my gratitude to Him. I could laugh in wonder at the amazing protection that God has ordered for my precocious Ezra. That was a moment of distinction for me:
Choosing to see God's protection in my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection, and not my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection.
And then thanking Him with all I have.
A couple of nights ago, we were visiting my aunt and uncle who live on a beautiful piece of land in Canton. They have an adorable golden retriever named Jack, who is still quite puppy-like in his behavior. Jack is sweet and energetic and BIG. My boys love dogs, but they are not used to dogs that big. So when Jack bounced around with them, barking, they got scared. They ran. Jack, who thought they were playing, ran after them. This caused terrified screams and cries from their cute little faces.
There was one time in particular that Finn was running from Jack, screaming. Matt called out to him, "Finn! Finn! Just run to me!" Matt knew that if Finn would run to him, then he would be able to protect him. He would handle the dog and keep Finn safe. When Finn kept running farther and faster away, it was difficult for Matt to do anything. He needed Finn close to protect him.
However, Finn couldn't hear his daddy calling. The dog was too close and the barking was too loud. Those teeth were too big and the situation was too scary. So he cried and screamed, powerless to do much else.
This was such a vivid example to me of how God responds to us in the barking chaos of our lives. When circumstances are overwhelming, He calls out to us to come close, to draw near. He wants to enclose us in the shadow of His wing so that He can better protect us. Yet sometimes the noise and the size of our circumstances just drowns out the voice of our Father and Protector. In our fear, we end up running further away from Him Who alone can help us.
Ezra falling down the stairs was life barking at me. Barking at me about my greatest fears and my most intimate failures.
When I drew close through prayer, it was then that God could speak the words that would restore my peace and dismantle my anxiety. I could have spent many days tied up in knots and broken over what almost happened. I know myself enough to know that I could have spiraled into a hole of fear and guilt.
God is speaking. He is always speaking. I choose to stay close to Him so I can hear Him above everything else and so that He can handle the noisy dogs of life for me. Dogs chase and bark, but God draws and whispers. Dogs will demand our attention but God will invite it.
It takes desire and true intention to focus on God over the chaos of our circumstances. But when we do, we will find a Father willing and capable to protect.
