Blood and Tears

Twice in the last three days Nora has had accidents that involved blood and tears.

On Sunday night, we were getting ready for bed and she was bouncing on her new "big girl" bed. Just as I was asking her not to do that ("you might fall and bump your...") she hit her chin and front teeth on the head board. First there was the bloody lip, then there was the inconsolable sobbing. She finally stopped crying when she just fell asleep in my arms about thirty minutes later.

Then tonight we went for a walk with Sojo along the Sligo Creek Trail and she was begging me to stop by the creek so she could throw some rocks in. So we stopped and she was standing on a big, stone block in the middle of the creek that--I realized too late--was a little wet and slippery. One good, strong toss and she ended up face down in the water, nose scraped, mouth bleeding, again, all wet. And more of the inconsolable sobbing. I finally got her calmed down enough to convince her to go back in the jogger so we could go home, but what had started out as a lovely evening, ended up with both of us wet and miserable.

It's wonderful being two years old. Nora has discovered that there are more and more things that she can do for herself, and her independent spirit is a beautiful thing. But I am also realizing more and more that, as her mother, I cannot protect her from everything. I can't prevent her from making mistakes, getting hurt, even falling on her face.

In her book The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion writes about her daughter:
You're safe, I remember whispering to Quintana when I first saw her in the ICU and UCLA. I'm here. You're going to be all right...It occurred to me during those weeks that this had been, since the day we brought her home [as a baby] from St. John's hospital in Santa Monica my basic promise to her. She would be all right. It also occurred to me that this was a promise I could not keep. I could not always take care of her...Things happened in life that mothers could not prevent or fix.

Of course, Didion's daughter had a brain aneurysm and mine has a bloody lip and scrapes on her nose and chin, but it's still the same feeling. Things happen in life that mothers cannot prevent or fix. And it's really scary and painful to realize that. Because I love my child more than anything in the world. I never want her to experience pain or suffering. But she does and will, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

And then I wonder--is this how God feels about us?

I will be the first one to admit that the parental metaphor for God is limited and, at times, unhelpful--even hurtful--for some people. But then there are other times when, as a parent, I think, if I love my child this much, and want to protect her and comfort her and see her live and grow and thrive this much...how much more does God want that for us?

I feel certain there are times when God watches us doing something and thinks don't do that you're going to fall and bump your...oh, ouch. And yet God loves us enough to let us be free to mess up, to fall on our faces, to bump our chins. And when we cry inconsolably, God's there, too, ready to wipe away the tears.

Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.

Revelation 21:3-4 (New Living Translation)