I was upstairs in a bedroom, with a sobbing girl curled up in my lap. Half an hour before that moment, she threw her glasses on the table and stomped away from dinner, crying that she didn't want to eat the food in front of her. Minutes later, while the rest of us were in conversation about the day, she came back, calmly took her glasses back in her hands, and as I heard Tim yell, "Ellie, NO!" I also heard the crack and snap of the flexible, "unbreakable" frames.
With that, she was scooped up by a frustrated (and rightfully so) father, placed in her bedroom, and told it was early to bed for her. Because, really, what person who isn't overtired and exhausted, snaps her glasses?
Now, let me just say that God somehow took over my mind and body right then and there because the following would be an unusual reaction for me. Normally, I'm the one wound so tight that those snapped frames would have resulted in me being the one to scoop her up, drop her into bed, and seethe until morning while mumbling over the cost of new frames and what is her problem?
What happened this time is that I gathered a pair of her favorite pajamas from the pile of folded laundry in my room, brought up her toothbrush and toothpaste, and a hair brush. I calmly went up to her room, helped her get ready for bed, and sat while brushing her hair. As she sobbed, we went over why her decision was not good. We talked about asking for and accepting forgiveness and the peace it could bring to her heart. I should say, I talked about forgiveness, because she had so many walls up around her that she refused to believe her dad would ever forgive her or love her again after what she did.
I took her out of bed, wrapped her up in my arms, and started to pray over her with intensity. When you can feel the war within a child, it's heartbreaking. When you know that you're the cause of some of it, it's...well, I can't even find an accurate word. You feel like a failure of a mother, that's for sure.
As I prayed over her, taking responsibility and confessing words she has heard me say about her, or praying against words that others have said to her in the past, asking that the Lord would remove those lies from her heart, I could feel her body start to physically relax and her crying ceased. I am not proud of it, but I have had my part in breaking her, as I try to mold her free spirit into my firstborn-Type-A-personality desires of how a "good child" should be. While I was aware of it at the time I was praying, it wasn't until after that I truly felt it hit me.
I started to sing "This Little Light of Mine" since I had prayed God's love and light would shine through and break the dark places hiding in her small heart. While singing, I was reminded that "Eleanor" means "light." I realized I have not done very well at letting my little Eleanor/Light shine. It was one of those breakthrough moments for me.
My mom reminds me often, very often, of the power of words and what we speak...whether or not people are even around to hear us say them. I'm guilty of negative words. I want to change. This night, as it comes to a close, has also been a reminder to me of the verse I chose to meditate on today, Romans 7:15 -
"For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."
Whether it's Ellie breaking her glasses in a fit of calm anger, or me and what I speak, there is an importance in realizing life is a battle. Light and dark. So I will fight to let my lights shine - both God's light in me, and also to let Eleanor shine in the way God made her - footloose and fancy free, full of sparkle and song with an imagination running wild with creativity.
