Obsessive. Sometimes compulsive. But never obsessive-compulsive. This is me on occasion.
I’ve been all consumed with John Henry’s Kindergarten experience. Not only academically, but how he relates to others, how he feels about himself, and so on and so forth. He’s adjusting pretty well. But, he’s also having to learn how to adapt to structure, how to know when not to be funny, and how to know when to say “poop” (and never at a Christian private school….ever).
He is also trying to find his place in this brand new world. And, we are trying to teach him that he is great just the way he is. Yet, he has this need to be accepted. I guess we all do. But, he uses humor or exaggerated stories to prove to others his self-worth. It frustrates me. I worry about his emotional state. Whatever his teacher tells me, good or bad, affects me. Is this normal moms?
I became so emotional and so stressed over what is best for my little boy, I began to question my decisions for him. Perhaps, I should home-school him. Maybe he needs me all day every day. And, while I know that home-schooling is the right option for many, I just don’t think it’s what’s best for John Henry. At least not for now.
So I stressed.
I even cried like the hormonal chick that I am.
To my momma.
You wanna know what my momma told me? (I don’t know why I’m calling her “momma” when I’ve always called her “mom”, but we’ll just roll with it.)
She said, “Dusty, you have to trust God with John Henry’s life. You have to trust that God has His hand on him.”
Oh, but here was the kicker.
“Dusty, don’t you know that God loves John Henry more than you do?”
Get back Jack!
I responded like any other girl brought up in faith, hope and love, “Oh! You’re right! I forget that stuff!”
I forget that He is in control. I forget that I am not.
I forget that He who began a good work will be faithful to finish it.
I forget that He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. Oh, that’ll preach.
You see all things were created by Him. All things are sustained by Him. And, He works all things for our good.
And, He loves my John Henry more than I do. Sure does. That’s a big honkin’ love.
Thanks, Mom.
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