Our middle little has been particularly challenging the last few months. Not because of a stubborn spirit. Not for failure to obey. Not because her heart is hard. It is, in fact, quite the opposite problem–her tenderness. I hesitate to use that word problem because being soft-hearted is something I pray often over my children. But lately—and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re juggling busyness again, or just for the fact that I have 3 under 5—her little emotions seem to have run haywire. Some days my husband and I exchange puzzled glances wondering how to move forward. I suppose, however, that is not uncommon in this journey of parenting, as a whole. But this feels different. Our sweet girl cries instantly over seemingly the smallest details—my tummy isn’t hungry for this food, I wanted to give you one more hug, my chalk isn’t coloring right, my barbie car won’t fit., the water in the bath tub isn’t right, my pants won’t go on..and the list goes on and on. You may be shaking your head at my overstatement of the obvious—she’s a toddler. In fact, she’s not just a toddler, she’s three. That’s the age so far that has challenged me most. I think most can agree that it’s easy to Google developmental milestones to see why. 3 is that magical age(at least for the kiddos in our family) where they’re learning to deeply interact with the world and relationships around them. They’re asking questions. They’re exploring. And they’re responding as they learn to think critically. With our eldest, we didn’t experience an amalgam of emotions because she is more logical. She asked, we answered and she(for the most part) trusted us. When we didn’t know the answer, we would research together and she retained much. That is just the way she was made. But with our very fragile, tender middle it is entirely different. That’s not to say that both of my daughters don’t harbor gentle, sensitive spirits. I’ve seen it manifested in both on different occasions and under different circumstances.

However I recently discovered that—like me–our sweet girl feels deeply. When she is hurt, she’s down hard. When she is joyful, her spirit bursts forth with singing. When she is feeling silly, she’s the family comedian. And even though her emotions seem to weigh me down sometimes(because I don’t often know how to respond, or don’t have the capacity to respond in patient love) these are the very means by which she will be used mightily one day.

The other day I stumbled upon these words which express what my heart has needed so well:

Let us not therefore be discouraged at the small beginnings of grace, but look on ourselves as elected to be ‘holy and without blame’. Let us look on our imperfect beginning only to enforce further striving to perfection…otherwise, in case of discouragement, we must consider ourselves as Christ does, who looks on us as those he intends to fit for himself. Christ values us by what we shall be, and by what we are elected into. We call a little plant a tree because it is growing up to be so. ‘Who has despised the day of small things?'(Zech. 4:10). Christ would not have us despise little things

The Bruised Reed, Sibbes

I think I realized that on my weary and worn days, when I’m feeling irritable or sluggish, I only see those emotions negatively. Every complaint, or cry of frustration and woe just exasperates me. But I’m forgetting to see those small beginnings of grace in my sweet girl’s life. Yes, she’s the first one to cry–and sometimes wail-(at an eye-twitching pitch)-when she doesn’t get her way, or she is angered by some insignificant detail of the day. BUT she’s also the first and last person to hug her baby brother before nap and bedtime(something she requests daily). And she’s also the one who prays fervently for my aches and pains every night as we tuck her in( Lord, please help mama’s tummy. Please make mama’s headache go away, Lord, I’m so sorry that mama’s nose was bleeding today. Please make her better). She’s quick to notice when people are hurting, or lost in sadness. And she’s there to help, hug, or just be present in that broken moment. She is our feeler in every sense of the word. But there’s also a hidden consistency there that I often miss–her faithful spirit. In every emotion, she commits. I know that sometimes this is expressed sinfully, but it is a trait there nonetheless. She is unwavering in her tenderness and strength. And when this is expressed appropriately it is stunningly beautiful.

But sometimes, as she reminds me, “it’s just hard being 3”. So on those long days(which have been many as of late) I want to remember this. Her little heart won’t always use these gifts well–because she isn’t perfect. But the potential—the goodness–is there, because these are those small beginnings of grace for which we, as her parents, pray regularly. We ask the Lord to work within her heart, to draw her to himself, to make her see his pure, abundant love. And these precious, fragile emotions might just be the means by which she sees who He is and serves those around her. If only my own sinful heart wasn’t obscuring the view…

I’m so grateful that God has allowed me to see more of His gracious, steadfast spirit in this privilege of motherhood. I’m forever thankful that He doesn’t deal with me impatiently, but quietly and tenderly. He is constantly, faithfully drawing me into deeper rest and recognition that I can’t mother well apart from His matchless mercy and grace.

And I’m going to try–especially when my heart feels faint—to look upon my sweet little one as who she might become instead of seeing her flaws(of which I have many, too).