Through the Eyes of a Child

Unless you are my mother, you probably watch and actually like the movie A Christmas Story. It’s become iconic.   Little Ralphie Parker is obsessed with owning a Red Rider BB Gun, but everyone keeps telling him that he will shoot his eye out.  He is on a mission to tell Santa what he wants.  The look of awe and wonder on his face when he snaps out of his daze and remembers what to tell Santa and climbs back up the slide to share his news is priceless.  That look of awe and wonderment on a child’s face is what Christmas is all about. 

For a long time, I had lost that.  Christmas had become a painful memory of what I didn’t have, not what I did have.  The story of Christ’s birth was something I had heard a million times, and even the baby Jesus in the manger was a painful reminder of the child I didn’t have.  The only thing I looked forward to was seeing my family.  Other than that, Christmas had lost the amazement of my childhood.  I stopped decorating and putting up a tree.  There was no reason to decorate, and it became a huge burden and mess I had to clean up any way.  There were no laughter and giggles in my house as presents were opened.  There were no traditions of telling the story of Christ’s birth.  There was no visiting Santa or wrapping presents in the middle of the night.  It was just Richard, me, and Ziggy. 

My how times have changed! But even though life is different for me, there are still many others out there in this world who struggle with the holidays.  It may be for completely different reasons, but the holidays are hard for people who are missing loved ones who have passed away, they are hard for people who have no family, they are hard for people who desperately want children, they are hard for people who are estranged from their family.  Please keep those people in mind as well.  My heart will always ache for the brokenhearted, because I have been there. 

I can safely say that I have gotten my Christmas groove back.  Having a child in your home completely changes Christmas. It was definitely fun the first two times when Madison was an infant and then again when she was one, but this year, at age two, Christmas has taken on a whole new meaning. I get to see it through the eyes of a child. The Christmas story is no longer a story I’ve heard a million times.  I get to retell it to this precious child and watch her face light up as she tells me about Mary, “Juspis”, and the Jesus-Loves-Me baby.  Seeing the awe and wonder on her face when she tells me that it’s Jesus’ birthday and hearing her talk about Santa stir up long, hidden memories and emotions inside of me.

She is so excited this year.  She loves the decorations and helped me put up the tree and decorate it.  She loves to sit in front of the tree and look at it.  She will ask me if we can just sit and watch the tree. The thrill I get in giving her presents and watching her open them is immeasurable.  We sing Christmas songs and play with her plastic nativity scene.  She has put in an order for a yellow car from Santa, even though the past two weeks she has changed it to pink.  I’ve assured her that Santa has already gotten her a yellow car that he searched long and hard for.  Every Christmas gift she opens gives her pure delight.  Madison also loves to give gifts to others.  She was thrilled when I asked her to hand her daddy his present and when she brought her Nana her gift as well. She has brought so much joy to our home. 

I have learned a valuable lesson through Madison. Matthew 18:2-6 states that “Jesus called a little child to him and put the child among them.  Then he said, ‘I tell you that truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. And anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me.  But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to have a large millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in the depths of the sea.’”

Madison readily accepts the miraculous story of Christ’s birth.  There are no questions or doubts.  She readily accepts the story of Santa, never wondering how he and the reindeer can fly or how he fits down the chimney.  She believes it with all of her heart.  That’s what Christ meant when he said we should become like a little child.  We should accept Him and the miraculous story of his birth, death, and resurrection with the childlike faith that I see in Madison.  If we can’t do that, we will never make it to heaven.

He says it again in Mark 10:13-16: “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children.  I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.”

Lord, I pray that the story of your birth never again becomes a story I’ve heard a million times.  I am thankful that you sent me a child to renew my spirit and wonderment. I pray that I approach life through the eyes of a child.   

The greatest gift I’ve ever been given was when Christ died on the cross for me, and the second greatest gift I’ve ever been given is the precious daughter He gave me.  Life is full of joy now.  I am focused on the blessings more than ever.  This day and every day I am reminded of His words in Psalm 113:9: “He gives the childless woman a family, making her a happy mother. Praise the Lord!”

Merry Christmas from the Pierces!

Forgiveness: It's not that easy.

Being a parent has been one of the most wonderful experiences of my life.  With it comes a lot of introspection.  It makes you face those personal demons that you’ve kept tucked away deep down inside of you. That’s not necessarily a negative thing.  In your desire to be the best parent you can be, you try to fix anything and everything that can be holding you back.  

Before I say anything else, let me preface it with this:  I love to write.  Writing is therapeutic for me.  I am going to say some things that others will say I should’ve kept to myself, but that’s not how I operate.  Writing helps me heal.  It allows me to say all the things that I’ve kept hidden.  It is also an opportunity to help someone else who may be dealing with the same issues. 

I will be turning forty in two weeks.  I’m not excited about that.  Even though I may appear to be forty on the outside, on the inside, I’m still the little eight-year-old girl who watched her world collapse around her when her parents divorced.  Becoming a parent has made me deal with some of my childhood hurts. I want to make sure that Richard and I have a very strong marriage, because I don’t want Madison to ever have to go through the hurt that comes with divorce.  It is very important to me that Richard and I have healthy dialogue with one another.  I’m not saying that we always do, but I don’t want to fight or yell at one another in front of her.  It’s a really big deal to me.  I don’t want her to lock herself up in the bathroom or bedroom and plug her ears like I did when I was a little girl so she won’t have to hear her parents scream at one another.  I don’t want her to feel scared or uncomfortable. 

I will always fight for my marriage and do whatever I can to ensure that we stay committed to one another, because I will never forget what divorce did to me.  I remember when my mom told me that she was leaving my dad and that I was the only person she had told.  I remember being very scared and unsure, and I remember feeling that I had to be strong for her…for me.  That molded my personality.  I’ve always tried to be very strong, or at least appear to be strong on the outside. I remember what it was like to be uprooted from the only home I knew and move to the city into an apartment with my mother and begin life in a new school with new friends.  I remember what it was like to have my dad drive me to school a few times the first couple of weeks and listen to him cry as he talked about their divorce, and then I would enter the school with tears in my eyes and the weight of that conversation on my little shoulders. 

It’s important to me that Madison has a close relationship with her daddy, which she does, because she absolutely adores him, but it’s important because I never had that with my own daddy. My daddy stopped having anything to do with me by the time I was about ten.  He remarried, and my stepmother didn’t want me over there.  My mom remarried, and thank the good Lord above, she married an amazing man, but that’s not always the case when stepparents are brought into the scenario. I don’t want Madison to ever have to wonder why her daddy doesn’t love her.  I don’t want her to ever wonder why daddy never had the money to pay her child support but always had the money to go hunting or fishing or do whatever else he wanted to do.  I never want her to go through life wondering why she isn’t good enough or what she could’ve done better to make her daddy love her.  I don’t want her to wonder why her daddy can’t just take her to McDonald’s or call her or spend the day with her.  And most importantly, I don’t want her to feel worthless, like discarded trash, or to make a lifetime of mistakes in every relationship she is ever in because of the way her father treated her. I will do whatever I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.

I will always tell Madison how beautiful she is and how smart she is.  I will make sure that Richard and I lift her up and make her feel special. We will not use words to hurt her.  My mom always told me how beautiful and talented I was.  I grew up with self-esteem because of my mother.  My daddy, in his attempts to find something to talk to me about, would oftentimes make fun of my weight.  I’ve always been told that he didn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t matter.  When you’re a kid or a teen or an adult and your daddy makes fun of you for your weight, it sticks with you.  Words hurt.  Whoever came up with the old adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” needs to be throat punched.  Words do hurt, and they stick with you a lifetime.  I will use my words to build up my child and not destroy her. 

Since Madison’s birth, I have had to revisit these hurts.  It has been very hard.  I’ve had to really think about the definition of forgiveness. The dictionary definition of forgiveness is “to cease to feel resentment against an offender.” We are called as Christians to forgive:  “And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses” (Mark 11:25).  That’s just one of many verses on forgiveness.  I want to be a Godly example to Madison.  I want to teach her what it means to truly live a Christian life.  I also have to teach her about forgiveness.  That’s hard.  Do I dwell on my past? No.  Do I hate my father or stepmother? No.  

My way of dealing with hurt is to shut people out of my life who hurt me.  It’s my defense mechanism.  If I forget about them, I don’t have to worry about ever being hurt again.  That’s how I’ve handled my relationship with my father all these years.  I stopped trying and I stopped caring.  I let go of what happened in the past. I have a wonderful relationship with my mother and my siblings.  I have an amazing stepdad, who is my father, because he stepped up and fulfilled that role in my life.  I have always honored my father like the Bible requires me to.  When I got married, I put his name in the newspaper announcement.  I put his name and my stepmother’s name on my wedding invitations.  When my dad was in the hospital, I went to see him, but that’s it.  

Now that Madison is here, they’ve wanted to be a part of her life, and that has been hard for me.  It’s not because I haven’t forgiven them or hold any kind of hate towards them.  She’s my daughter.  I want to spare her from the hurt I’ve faced.  I can’t help it.  I want to protect her.  In my mind, if she never knows them, then she doesn’t have to face disappointment or hurt.  My greatest fear is that by letting them see her, they will somehow break her heart the way they broke mine.  I don’t want her to be hurt.  I don’t want them to be a part of her life now and then up and disappear when she gets older. And as hard as I try not to feel this way, I find myself being angry when they bring her gifts or money or call and ask to come see her when I come home to visit.  Why? Because they never wanted to come see me and still don’t. It’s a difficult battle.  I want to be a Godly example to my daughter, but I also want to protect her from all the pain this world has to offer. 

What do I hope people take from this?  Well, first, I need to say these things.  I need to tell others about my experiences.  They are my experiences, and I have every right to share them.  Second, I hope that people will realize how devastating divorce can be.  Fight for your marriages, especially if you have children.  Third, parenting brings out the best and the worst in us.  It’s not easy.  It’s a hard battle to face. Parenting requires us to be introspective.  We are forced to work on our flaws so our best parts are on display for our children.  If you take anything from this, just remember that you are not alone.  We all have unique life experiences that shape us into who we are, and every parent has personal demons that he/she fights in the common goal of becoming the best parent for that little being that we are shaping. 

It’s a tough job.  It’s a selfless job.  It’s the best job.  Parenting is hard, and while we are trying our best to mold our children into productive citizens, God is molding us to be the best examples we can be to them.