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Grace is the new perfect

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July 26, 2015 by Christina Kposowa in Faith

My son has one of those convertible crib things. It's supposed to grow with your kid and has four levels. A few weeks ago, we awoke to a loud thud in the middle of the night. Musa rushed to the nursery, only to find Lincoln sitting on the floor crying and looking bewildered.

That night, we lowered the crib to the very lowest setting. 

A few days later, to our horror, we awoke to the same, familiar thud. Musa rushed in again, only this time, our son met him at the door. Needless to say, Lincoln slept in the bed with us that night (and soundly, might I add.)

I lamented to Lincoln's pediatrician several days later and asked what we should do. Surely, he was too young for a toddler bed. 

"Well, once he starts jumping, you know it's time. He could really hurt himself now that he knows how to get out, especially if he lands on something hard."

Seriously? Why couldn't Lincoln just understand that his crib, even though it looks and feels like a glorified prison, was actually the best and safest place for him to sleep?

The more I think of that question, the more I think of myself. How many times have I read through God's Word, clearly understood the measurements of the protective boundaries He's placed around me (a spiritual crib for the sake of analogy), and then calculated, plotted and "successfully" schemed on how to find a way out? And in the end, "freedom" is never as satisfying as it seems.

The issue with Lincoln is that He's too young to understand that we're actually being loving when we kiss him goodnight and tuck him in his crib. He's too immature to rationalize. And if I'm honest, that's my issue too. Every time I violate the authority God has placed in my life (my parents, my husband, my boss, the state speed limit ...) I'm saying with my actions that He isn't loving. If He was, He would give me what's truly best, which just so happen to be all the things I really desire (a bigger house, a nicer car, more money and smaller feet).

It's not terribly surprising that I often end up just like Lincoln: on the floor, hurt and in need of help.

But what is surprising, is that each time I find myself there in the dark, at my lowest point, God disciplines, but also comforts me. He picks me up and consoles me. He knows that I'm a jumper at heart and yet He loves me anyway. He proves, over and over and over, that He is truly loving. And for that, I am truly grateful.

July 26, 2015 /Christina Kposowa
Faith
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Beach

July 26, 2015 by Christina Kposowa in Family

My husband and I share a love for spontaneity (when we're not exhausted), so when we woke up earlier than normal yesterday, the beach was a no brainer. It was the perfect day.

Lincoln did surprisingly well. He loved the feeling of the sand against his toes. He was fascinated with the seagulls, otherwise known as beach pigeons, roaming about and scouting for food. He made it a point to walk up to every stranger within 10 feet of our umbrella and give them a high-five (extrovert in the making, I'm sure).

I never imagined how much I would enjoy just watching him experience new things. It's one of the many amazing joys of being a parent. 

But the trip was not without tears (keeping it real): during the car ride both ways, on the beach when he realized the strength of the waves crashing against the shore (he was terrified actually), and of course when the very last Boardwalk fry was gone. For us, these short-lived episodes were terribly minor in comparison to how much we truly enjoyed being together. 

I know I say it a million times, but I'm so very thankful.

July 26, 2015 /Christina Kposowa
Family
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