Insecurity Starts At 3??

It happened just moments ago. Another Mommy Heart Sunk moment. My three year old is having a hard time starting preschool for the first time. She cries, whines, and begs me not to go. I make her. This is life. I love her, but I also love her too much to not make her do hard things. Certainly, those hard things will help build her character...I rehearse to myself over and over again...because quite frankly, I don't want her to go either.
Today was picture day. I put her in this new purple and white stripe dress. She hates doing her hair. It actually never looks that great. You know...like those moms whose girls have curled hair and huge bows that look as if they are straight out of a magazine. Yep. But, no. We don't do hair like that.
I promised I would watch her from outside the window. I could see her, and she could see me. We were both happy. She walked timidly over to the teacher who was having the adorable preschoolers find their name card and place it on the calendar. Eleanor strolled over cautiously. She kept looking out the window to make sure I was still there. I stuck my tongue out at her and smiled. She smiled and giggled back. Awww... I love that girl. Then it happened. The little girl that looked like a fashionista strolled over by Eleanor. The teacher saw her and announced in her cutest, nicest teacher voice, "Oh my goodness. Don't you look so beautiful today." The beautiful girl smiled and continued on her way. My adorable toddler immediately looked down at herself. I could see her mind wondering why she didn't receive such a compliment. She looked at the fashionista again. And then down at her clothes again. She felt sad. Rejected. And so did I. No one did anything wrong. Nothing should or could have changed. Except for the fact that I felt like running in and hugging my daughter and looking in her eyes.
"Baby...welcome to life. I'm sorry you had to find out so young, but here you are. If I can teach you one thing...one vital piece of life: God doesn't look on the outside, but He looketh on the heart.  So guard that little heart with your life and I will be here to help you. If you help someone who is sad, play with someone who needs a friend, say nice words when you feel like saying mean ones...you will be the prettiest girl the world has ever seen. I know...because that's the way I already see you. And one day, you will see yourself the same.

The Chaos We Call Family Prayer

Family prayer is an anxiety inducer. I admit, there have been some nights that I actually silently pray that my husband will forget about calling all of our adorable little ones around us to close our long day with family prayer.  I've already spent my patience quota for the day and I'm not sure I have the reserve needed for another ten minutes.
"guys...get up here" "now" "no..you can't shower first" "I'm serious...get up here" "yes, you have to come" "who wants to say the prayer?" "Anyone...anyone?"
The 15 year old is sitting in a orange leather armchair with his body sprawled everywhere. He's staring at the ceiling wondering how many years he has until he is officially out of the house. The younger teenager drapes his skinny body over half the couch and refuses to move when his adoring younger brother starts crying because there's no room to sit by him. The six year old continues screaming to the point where you worry the neighbors will hear. You sternly tell the 13 year old to sit up so his brother can, for pete sake, sit by him. He rolls his eyes and then rolls his body onto the floor. If he can't use up half the couch...he won't use it at all. The ten year old kneels and is actually ready to pray. Phew. 1 out of 5. The baby refuses to say the prayer. That's fine. I'll pray. I start my prayer. About 10 seconds into the prayer, the baby shrieks at a deafening tone akin to the six year old. I open my eyes.
"I want to say it...I want to say it," she screams. I continue with my prayer that no one can hear over the screeching siren of the three year old. . I can't decide whether to stop my prayer and let her say it (I become an enabler) or keep saying a prayer that no one can hear. I always choose the former. I'm an enabler. It takes a minute for her to calm down and catch her breath. She prays.
So one may ask...why do you keep this practice going?  I'll tell you why. It has changed my heart and it has changed my life. You see, those family prayers have been a source of revelation. The Lord has worked through my children, to let me know the things I need to hear. The things I would never know they felt. Or feared. Or hoped for. Over the last fifteen years, I have heard these prayers uttered by my children...who really are God's children.  They just happen to be on loan to us for a brief amount of time.
"please help the sick kids at dad's work to not be sick anymore," "thank you for my Spiderman costume," "thank you for our cozy home," "please help no one to be mean to me at school," "please help mom's back to be better so she can run again," "thank you for dad's job so we can eat food," "please help me to not be scared at school," "please help the poor people to be less poor," "thank you for our cars that work," "please help dad to come home soon," " thank you for the new shirt mom bought me," "please help us to find the remote control," "please help us never go from the good side to the dark side," and I've even heard the sacred uttered words, "please help us so we can all live together forever."
And so we keep praying. Not perfectly. Not because I want to. But because we need to.  A child's prayer is a sacred song. So as long as they will sing, I will be there listening.