That’s what crossed my mind moments ago as I snuggled with Lucy in her bed to help her drift off to sleep. Once she fell asleep and her breathing became steady and deep, I carefully lifted my arm off her. She stirred and said with eyes still closed and mostly asleep, ‘night night dadda.’ I said ‘good night sweet pea.’ And then I just laid there next to her with tears in my eyes, wishing that I were a better father.
Let me explain.
I had to come home earlier than planned tonight to be home with the 4 kids so Jess could take Madi to a birthday party. I was feeling a bit put out since I’m slammed at work and I’m going to be out of the office for several weeks. I figured I could get some work done at home if I just put the kids to bed early.
When I got home I got good news. Jess had already told the kids they were to go to bed early. So, after a quick dinner I told the kids to put the pool net back on and get ready for bed. Ammon woke up from his nap too soon which complicated my attempts at productivity. But I could manage one baby downstairs as long as the kids upstairs fell asleep. Which didn’t happen.
Lucy came downstairs in tears … scared of something.
- Dadda, I’m scared.
- There’s nothing to be scared of. Get back in bed. I’m right here.
- OK.
- [Good. I can get back to my work]
- Minutes later: Dadda, I saw something in my room.
- Lucy, do not get up from your bed again. Lay down. Close your eyes. Go to sleep!
- But, Dadda I’m scared.
- Lucy! Go to sleep!
Now Ammon is crying and being more difficult. Of course.
- Dadda … when is mom going to be home?
- Not until way after you’re asleep. Now go to bed Lucy. If I have to tell you to go to bed again …!
- OK
I’ll spare you (but mostly myself) the rest of the 10 times this was repeated – each time with voices escalating. She couldn’t stop crying. Whining. So tired. Too tired to fall asleep. My response each time was to teach her. I needed her to understand and learn that she can stop herself from crying. I needed to teach her that there isn’t anything to be afraid of. I wasn’t going to yield until she fell asleep the right way. On her own.
By the 10th time (and an hour later) I had had enough. Ammon was crying downstairs next to me while I’m trying to work on my computer. I hear footsteps on the stairs. Again. You. Can’t. Be. Serious. I had already warned her about spanking her (that’s how desperate I was getting … I haven’t spanked one of our kids in probably 7 years). I marched up there, picked her up off the stairs, got to the top of the stairs and spanked her bum. Not hard. But, I could tell it broke her heart. And, it broke mine too.
She walked to her bed. I walked downstairs.
I got Ammon and put him in bed for the night and finally … sat in front of my computer to get back to work. But, of course, I couldn’t. As I replayed in my mind the series of events, I realized how blind and selfish and mean I was. I heard the Spirit whisper:
‘Go apologize and snuggle with her. All she needed from the start was for you to snuggle with her. Why didn’t you do such a simple, loving thing? What kind of father are you?’
My natural reflex was to resist. If I yielded to that prompting then I all of the yelling and back and forth and discipline would have been for naught. She wouldn’t learn this lesson I’m teaching her. Then the Lord whispered a little louder to my mind/heart:
‘You weren’t teaching her anything. That’s just you rationalizing your stupid, misplaced priorities. Go apologize and snuggle with her.’
I’m so grateful that I did. I walked upstairs and into her room. I laid down next to her. She was crying – quietly so I couldn’t hear her and get mad. I snuggled close and tight and said, ‘Lucy, I’m so sorry for spanking you and for yelling at you and for getting mad at you. I should’ve just come up and snuggled right away. Can you forgive me?’ Her crying slowed to a stop and she emphatically nodded yes and then said yes. ’I'm sorry sweetheart. I love you.’ I love you too.
As we snuggled, her breathing became calm and steady. Her grip on my forearm relaxed. In just a matter of minutes, she was slowly drifting asleep. Once she fell asleep and her breathing became steady and deep, I carefully lifted my arm off her. She stirred and said with eyes still closed and mostly asleep, ‘night night dadda.’ I said ‘good night sweet pea.’ And then I just laid there next to her with tears in my eyes, wishing that I were a better father.
I realized, laying there, that time is flying by and before I know it she won’t be calling me dadda and she won’t be afraid of the dark and she won’t just want to snuggle and I’ll never ever be able to get that back with her. I feel like such a fool for seeing her pleas to snuggle as a nuisance and a distraction from my work. So so stupid.
Matthew 18: 1-6
1 At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the a in the kingdom of heaven?
2And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,
3And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little a, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
4Whosoever therefore shall a himself as this little b, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
5And whoso shall receive one such little child in my a receiveth me.
6But whoso shall a one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.
As Lucy, half asleep, said to me, ‘night night dadda,’ I thought of this verse and better understood why the Lord compares being converted to becoming as a child. Mosiah 3:19 expands on it:
19 For the a b is an c to God, and has been from the d of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he e to the enticings of the Holy f, and g off the h man and becometh a i through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a j, k, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.
