Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Company

Every night they are lined up just like this.  They have a perfect bedside manner-- ever watching, ever patient, ever soft, ever squishy, and most importantly, ever present.  Some of these guys may get moved around from time to time or a newcomer may take a prominent spot but for the most part, they always look like this.



And rabbit has his back...


It’s company, security- whatever you want to call it.  My boy likes small spaces, like the space between his mattress and his wall, like the inside of the booth with Jeff or me on the other side, like in the bleachers between people- never on the end. He just likes company.  At all times. I think if it were socially acceptable, he’d ask the whole dugout if they’d like to go to the bathroom with him.  He’d rather play ANYthing with Julia in her room than crash Hot Wheels or build stadiums out of Legos in his room if it means he will be by himself.  His need to be with people trumps all other possibilities.  

Every morning, when I awaken him, this menagerie of furry friends sits quietly and reminds me of his desire for companionship and for security.  Always, he wakes up grinning, happy to see a real live face hovering over him, reaching up to pull me down for a hug.  When he awakens himself, he always comes downstairs, with a critter or two in hand, in search of someone to be with, to talk with. If he sleeps late on a Saturday, which happens as often as all socks being matched after laundry, strange quietness permeates the house and allows a lazy morning.  But soon, you hear him up, searching for a live body.

I’ve always said his constant need for companionship stems from the fact that I never enforced “pack-n-play time” {aka learn-to-entertain-yourself-time} with him.  He walked late-- really late-- and I wanted to be sure that I never hindered his attempt to take some steps.  Since he never mastered playing by himself in the pack-n-play, he never really got “room time” either so when his last nap was dropped several years ago, mine and Julia’s quiet afternoons have never been the same.

Over the years, bedtime has typically been the most interesting part of the day.  He’s chief when it comes to finding SOME reason to come out of his room after being securely tucked-- CD skipping, fan too loud, covers too stiff, ear hurting, Julia’s CD too loud, needing to draw something, hearing something in closet, squirrel in tree by window, too hot, too cold, too dark, too tired, too awake, too wiggly, too excited...... and I can’t even remember the most ridiculous ones.

After a few years of blaming myself for poorly training my second child, I realized it was SO not about me-- like I like to think everything is.  God made him that way and I am to embrace that about him.  The tricky thing with a seven year old is that he needs companionship along with training to respect other people’s boundaries.  Have fun with that, right?  I believe it’s what a friend of mine calls a “wisdom and life skill”.  It’s worth the effort in training.  It’s something he needs to understand about people and about himself.  Even though he may not need the time apart from people, his sister does, his friends could, and one day, his wife might.  It’s a boundary, that, if learned, will serve him well his whole life.

My prayer, of course, is that as his relationship with Jesus deepens, all of his confidence would be found in Him.  I want Brighton to find Christ as the perfect Refuge, the solid Rock, the All Present Friend in every moment of life.

So, for now, as this wisdom is being nurtured and developed, in come all these little animals-- to sit and stare and provide some company, some security until B figures out he has it ALL in the sufficiency of Christ.

2 comments:

Sarah said...

Love these words. I have one like this. Samuel NEVER likes to be along.

Alyssa said...

I saw lots of old stuffed animals when I was at home, and so this post struck a chord with me when I read it while I was there. I love this glimpse into B's heart and mind.