My hiding place

He ran away before I could say anything. I didn’t scream or grab him by the arm. He didn’t give me time to react. He just ran. And hid.

When I found him, his fig leaves had Buzz and Woody designs on them and his head was buried under T-Rex and Bullseye.

He had stopped crying, but when his eyes met mine, he burst into another round of sobs and crocodile tears. I didn’t say anything, yet again. But I did grab him and squeeze him tight into my bosom. The same bosom that nursed him and gave him life when he was a tiny infant. Flesh of my flesh and bones of my bones.

As his little body heaved and cried, my heart broke. He felt such guilt. And the red shards that decorated the kitchen floor left a gaping wound in his soul.

He couldn’t talk just yet, so I held him a bit longer. Lord knows I will hold his heart for a lifetime. The sobs got quieter and his breathing became more rhythmic as I rocked him like he was that tiny infant once again.

He pulled back and his eyes met mine again, but this time, he spoke between sobs, “mommy…I am so sorry…I didn’t mean…to break your glass.”

“Baby, I know. It was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to break it.”

“Mommy, are you mad?” he said as his eyes left mine and focused on the necklace around my neck. The same neck that his little fingers clung to.

“No, I’m not mad.”

“Mommy, are you sad?”

“No, buddy, I’m not sad. It was just a vase. We can buy another one. Are you okay?”

“No, I am sad because I hurt you. You really liked that glass.” His eyes met mine once again. Blue as the deepest ocean. Proof positive that there is a Creator creating beautiful everyday.

“You’re right. I did, but it’s okay. We can get another one. Mommy loves you more than that vase and I am thankful that you didn’t get hurt or cut by the glass.”

I know he heard me, but his mind was focused on something else. The shimmer in his eyes revealed the unspoken. The windows to his intimate and intricate soul. And they can reveal what the heart is pondering in some ways better than the spoken word.

“Mommy, where did you buy that glass?”

“I don’t remember, but we can look for another one if that would make you feel better.”

“Yes. I want to do that.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes, mommy. Can we go get your vase now?” His words gave way like a tidal wave to reveal the unspoken desire of his heart. To make it well with his soul…and mine.

I picked him up and squeezed him tight. His heart broken because he broke my vase. My heart softened and stretched. More deep healing continues to take place. My 4-year old has yet again been my teacher.

Our little slugger

Oh, I’ve messed up many, many times as a parent. My heart was pierced this time before I could yell or throw more darts at Sean’s heart. The damage was done. He was wounded deeply because he hurt one of the most important people in his life. His deep pain and reaction to run and hide caused me to stop in my tracks. Nothing I could possibly say in the moment would have helped the situation. His heart had been shattered in many more pieces than my vase. His very soul ached. So he did what we all do when life hurts and our souls ache. He hid.

How many times…oh Lord, how many times have I hidden from God because I felt inadequate, less than, not enough?

We all have hiding places. Those places, things, and people that we run to when we feel like we don’t measure up. I am learning {slowly} that there is Someone I can run to. He never yells or grabs me by the arm. I never feel inadequate when I am in His presence. I am more than enough to Him. He wants me to run to Him. Find shelter and safety in Him. My strong tower.

I am running in the right direction. And it feels good, whole, and full of grace.

Are you hiding? What do your fig leaves look like? If you have a tendency to run, like me, make sure that your finish line is in Him.

Much love and grace to you, dear friends!


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14 responses to “My hiding place

  1. “Make sure that your finish line is in Him.” Love that line! What a beautiful story! Thanks for sharing, Lizzie!

  2. Aw, so sweet. ((hugs)) What a deep heart lesson.

  3. Cathy Williams

    How do I love fig leaves, let me count the ways……what a lesson. Being a parent does really teach us the heart of Abba Father in a completely different way. So grateful He has left no fig leaf unturned in finding me!

  4. How beautiful Lizzie! How true that hearts and souls are the truly valuable things in life. I’m finding that the turning and entering in to hurt and pain yields so much more fruit than running. Not the easiest thing to do, though.

  5. Yes, Lizzie.. People will always be more important than our “things” what a great opportunity for you to share with Sean! He will eventually forget the vase, but he will never forget your ability to love him regardless of the broken things in our view. Love sees with the heart! …kleenex!

    • So very true…Vases are a dollar a dozen…Sean and his heart are worth more than anything money can buy. And, yes, I need Kleenex every time I read it because I see his pitiful face and wretching little body in so much pain and turmoil. Thankful for Grace to see!

  6. Venon

    What a heart-felt story. Sean will never forget this moment to love him even though he thinks he broke your heart. Oh, how much we can learn from God’s young ones.

  7. Beautiful! Found my way here via a link on Becky Daye’s blog and will come again! 🙂

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