Recently, we were talking about the book of Ecclesiastes. We'd both recently read it.
Eugene Peterson describes Ecclesiastes as a bath. It scrubs us clean of the illusion that:
...we can live our lives by ourselves on our own terms.Once we read Ecclesiastes, we are ready for Jesus.
It certainly was no coincidence that Ecclesiastes had come up more than one time recently.
For the past two weeks we'd been in the throes of transitioning the girls to one nap. I came up with a master plan, and we'd been executing that plan, bwahahaaaaa. Well, mostly, I'd been executing the master plan. Brad has been traveling a lot this month, so I've dealt with two tired, fussy, toddlers on my own.
Tired, fussy toddlers--the product of my master plan.
You see, sometimes I forget to have a chat with Jesus about all of this parenting business. I mean Jesus never had any children with nap schedules. Yikes, right? My arrogant heart needed the "bath" that is Ecclesiastes. My spirit needed to be scrubbed of the idea that I was in control, and that my "master plan" was somehow superior to anything that Jesus could help me out with.
So, on day three of Brad's most recent business trip, I just didn't know what do to. I felt like a fish flopping around on the sandy beach.
What the cuss? I had a master plan? (Have you seen the movie, Fantastic Mr. Fox? If you haven't, you should). Why wasn't my master plan working?
In that miserable, flopping place, that is where I met Jesus. Funny how sometimes I have to get to that point of utter and complete failure and "I-just-don't-know-what-to-do-ness" to realize that Jesus is right there, waiting for me.
So, after talking with Jesus, and having him remind me that, while he didn't actually parent any children while he was here on earth, he did create nap schedules, so I could consider him a reliable source for nap consultation. And, after talking with Brad, we decided that we'd surrender, wave the white flag, and fail.
Jesus, Brad, me---we all decided we'd go ahead and go back to two naps a day. I've never felt more peace about failure before in my life. It feels good. The girls are back to their happy-toddler selves, and the angst of "I-just-don't-know-what-to-do-ness" is gone.
Sometimes, we just need permission to fail.
Counting my gifts today:
717. Northside Dairy Haven.
718. Nap encouragement from friends.
719. Email from Melissa suggesting that it was okay to go back to two naps a day.
720. Lots of fun outings with the girls!
721. The girls making connections from the things they learn in books to the real world.
722. Gardenin' shoes.
723. The girls' awesome papa!